Fate and Synchronicity
by camlann
Summary: A foretold meeting between two people...will Eomer accept what fate has in store for him or will he fight his destiny? EomerOC
1. Chapter 1: Behold the Fallen

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I only own the original characters that I created.

A/N: This is the first LOTR fanfic I've ever attempted, so I apologize if it's not great. Ok, so this one starts up just after the Battle of Pelennor Fields. If anyone has seen the Extended Edition of the movie, you can get an idea of the scene I'm branching off of. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1: Behold the Fallen

Anguish hit Éomer son of Éomund like a spear through his heart as he beheld his sister lying unmoving on the battlefield. His sword fell numbly from his hands as he ran toward her still form, panic lending him speed. Dropping to his knees beside her, he dragged her limp body to him, hugging her to him. Beholding the stillness of his beloved sister, a bellow of sorrow and outrage was ripped from his throat. Wracked by sobs and bowed by grief, he bent over Éowyn, his heart screaming at him that she could not be dead.

Around him, loyal soldiers, part of his eored, gathered at his back, silently sharing their commander's grief. His lieutenant, Gárulf, retrieved Guthwine, Éomer's sword from the ground where Éomer had dropped it, not daring to interrupt his lord. Or rather, his king, Gàrulf thought as he observed an honor guard bearing the king's body away from the field. In his bereavement, Éomer had failed to notice that the king had also fallen.

Aragorn, hearing Éomer's cries, hurried over to find out what ailed his friend, and was astonished at what he saw. "What madness brought her here, Éomer?" At Aragorn's question, Éomer looked up in grief-stricken confusion, his tear-filled gaze meeting Aragorn's.

"I cannot lose her! She's all I have left," he cried in sorrow. Kneeling down beside Éomer, Aragorn placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. As Éomer cradled Éowyn to his chest, slowly rocking her back and forth, Aragorn's sharp eyes noticed the subtle movement of Éowyn's chain mail as she breathed. Her breath was ever so shallow, that Aragorn was sure he imagined it. Leaning forward, he tightened his hand on Éomer's shoulder to halt his movement.

"Hold, Éomer. She may yet live." Hope filled Éomer's eyes, as Aragorn took Éowyn in his arms, listening intently for breath sounds. With a smile, Aragorn looked up and gripped Éomer's shoulder. "She lives, my friend, but now you must get her to the healers." Nodding, Éomer stood, gathering his sister in his arms, carrying her to his horse so that he may bear her to the House of Healing within the walls of the great city.

* * *

Éomer sat beside his sister in the House of Healing, holding a quiet vigil at her side as he waited for his sister to awaken. Despite the earlier hope that Aragorn had offered, he was beginning to despair, afraid that she might never awaken from the icy, cold grip that held her captive. The healers had offered little assurance, and his sister grew colder by the minute. _Perhaps it would have been best had she died on the field, so that I would be saved from this torment of watching her die slowly before my eyes. _He gazed down at Éowyn, willing life into her, and feeling a growing despondency at her continued languor. 

He looked up wearily when Aragorn appeared before him, sorrow weighing heavily on him.

"I cannot watch her grow more and more lifeless, Aragorn, I cannot bear it," he said vehemently.

"It has been put to me that I may be able to heal those who have been felled by the Black Breath. I will do what I can for her, for I, too, wish to see her well again." Éomer feared to hope, his faith having dwindled as he watched his sister's life trickle away a little at a time.

"Do what you can, Aragorn, to heal her. But if you cannot," he paused, a sob catching in his throat. "If you cannot, aid her passage from this world, so that she suffers no longer." Éomer put his head in his hands as grief welled up once more. A piece of him would die with her if she passed, he knew, but better she die quickly than linger in torment.

His vision slowly blurred as he watched Aragorn sink into a deep trance, holding Éowyn's hand. Anguish and worry were finally taking their toll on Éomer, but he refused to give into the urge to sleep until his sister's fate had been decided, one way or another.

As he watched Aragorn work, he was unaware of how much time passed. It could have been hours, or only minutes from the time that Aragorn first took Éowyn's hand to the moment where she opened her eyes. Aragorn stood wearily as Éomer leaned forward, his hand reaching for Éowyn's as he sought to reassure himself that she lived

"I cannot repay you for this," Éomer said, looking up at Aragorn gratefully.

"Think nothing of it, my friend," Aragorn said with a weary smile. With a gentle pat on Éomer's shoulder, Aragorn walked away, leaving Éomer alone with his sister.

"Brother, you look so weary," Éowyn whispered, her eyes taking in Éomer's dirt and blood-streaked face, his tired eyes, and the slump of his shoulders. Sitting beside her, Éomer put his head in his hands, sobbing with relief that his beloved sister had not left him alone in this world.

Éowyn had never seen her brother this way, not even when their parents had died.

"You are overtaxed, Éomer. You should rest," she said, her hand weakly smoothing his hair back from his face.

"I am loathe to let you out of my sight, for fear something else may happen to you."

"I shall be fine here, my brother. Go rest," she said with a tired smile. Éomer wasn't the only one who needed rest. He gazed down at her worriedly, hesitant to leave her for fear that some affliction may befall her in his absence. She gave him a confident, albeit weak smile, patting his hand as their mother once had when they were afraid. "Go, Éomer. Rest."

"I will return in the morning, sister," he said, kissing her forehead as he stood. With one last look at her, he stumbled out of the House of Healing, weariness staggering him.

Sleep would not come to Éomer, despite his fatigue, for every time he closed his eyes, the faces of the dead appeared before him. Guilt weighed heavily upon him, for the lives he wasn't able to save, and deep down, he questioned whether there was something he could have done to save them.

Finally, frustration won out over his need for sleep and he rolled out of bed. Donning his tunic, he quickly left the chamber that had been allotted for his use and went to find something to do. With the number of dead in the streets, he knew there was no lack of work to be done.

Despite the lateness of the hour, large numbers of people were painstakingly removing the bodies from the streets, leaving the large, hulking carcasses of the enemy there to be collected and burned later. Seeing a small boy struggling to push an Uruk-Hai body off of a fallen Gondorian soldier, he stooped to help, slinging the rotting corpse off the soldier. The boy darted forward, looking down into the face of the soldier, only to slump his shoulders in defeat. He looked up at Éomer, shaking his head sadly, his lower lip protruding in a pout.

"Go rest, boy. This is no task for the young," Éomer said, placing a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder.

"We can't find my papa," he said stoically, trying to put on a brave face for this man who stood before him.

"Was your father a soldier?"

"Uh-huh. He went to fight the bad ones that came. But now we can't find him." Éomer knelt down before him, looking at the small boy in the face.

"Daran, where are you?" a voice rang out.

"Here I am, Rowan!" the boy called out, turning away from Éomer to run toward the youth that was calling.

"There you are. Mother was worried." Taking the child by the hand, he was about to turn when he saw Éomer. "He wasn't bothering you, was he, sir?"

"No. But you should take him home and have him put to bed. This is no place for children."

"We'll be lucky if our home is still standing. And there aren't enough people left. If we don't help, then who will? Besides, we cannot leave the dead lying here in the streets. They should be honored, not left to rot like the enemies that overran our city. I should help." He looked up at Éomer, before turning to gaze at the bodies of the dead lying all around them.

"Do not pity the fallen, boy, for they are free of the trials of this world." The boy looked up at him with a seriousness that belied his youth, a look in his eyes of a child who had seen too much death in his short life. Éomer felt peace steal through him as the truth of his own words hit him. Guilt lifted, and he offered Rowan a comforting smile. "I shall put the word out for my men to be on the lookout for your father. What is his name?"

"Derufin." Éomer nodded, committing the name to memory.

"If he is to be found, he will meet you at the House of Healing. You may ask after him there." Rowan nodded, and smiled up at Éomer, holding his head just a little bit higher.

"Thank you, my lord. I'll see Daran to bed now." He turned on his heel, his younger brother's hand held firmly in his own.

His own heart at ease, Éomer turned back toward his chambers to sleep. Tomorrow would be a long day.

* * *

A/N: Ok, so this chapter was originally paired with Chapter 2, but they didn't mesh as one chapter, so please read the next one for me! 


	2. Chapter 2: A Foretold Encounter

Disclaimer: I only own that which I came up with.

A/N: Although I think it will be obvious fairly quickly, the first part of this chapter takes place in the past.

Chapter 2: A Foretold Encounter

"Boromir, who are those men," seven-year-old Ellemir inquired, looking up at her oldest brother curiously. _Boromir will know,_ she thought with the conviction of a child, _because Boromir knows everything._

"What men, little sister?" Boromir asked, looking down at Ellemir's eager face staring up at him in adoration. At fifteen, Boromir considered himself to be quite knowledgeable, and he was always eager to impart his wisdom to his younger siblings.

"Those men down there, the ones talking to Father," she said, pointing down over the parapets to the men on horseback below.

"Oh, them? They are the Riders of Rohan, the Rohirrim they are called. They are great warriors, and their skill with horses is unmatched."

"Look, Faramir," Ellemir called excitedly as she caught sight of her other brother walking towards them. She ran to him, grabbing his hand and dragging him forward to where Boromir still stood. "Aren't they just wonderful?"

Faramir looked down, admiring the noble horse-lords and a slow smile blossomed on his face. At eleven, Faramir was a quiet, thoughtful boy, not inclined to the boisterous confidence and activity of his older brother, nor the gaiety and frivolity of his younger sister.

"I wish I was one of them," Faramir murmured, his eyes filled with wonder at the sight of the majestic horses and their riders.

"Barbarians, all of them," Boromir scoffed. "I'd much rather be a soldier of Gondor. Wouldn't you, Faramir?"

"I'm no soldier," Faramir said dejectedly.

"Who told you that?" Boromir asked, affronted on his brother's behalf.

"Father," Faramir answered, looking down at his feet, embarrassed by the tears that threatened to well up. Ellemir hugged Faramir around the waist, wanting to comfort him as only a child could, with that belief that a hug can fix all of one's hurts.

"Father didn't mean that, Faramir, he just says things sometimes without thinking, that's all. You'll make a great soldier one day--nothing less could be expected from a Son of Gondor," Boromir said, slapping Faramir playfully on the shoulder with a friendly smile.

Faramir didn't argue, but he knew that this time, his older brother was wrong. Their father meant everything he said.

"Look, look! They're riding away!" Ellemir exclaimed, jumping up and down excitedly, bringing the boys' attention back to the Riders who were below them. "Do you see them?"

"Yes, Ella, we see them," Boromir said with a grin, always willing to humor his little sister.

"When I'm grown, I'm going to marry one of them," Ellemir said matter-of-factly, still gazing down at the departing Riders.

"Why would you want to do that? You'd be much better off with a man of Gondor," Boromir said, leaning against the wall lazily.

"No, Boromir, that won't work."

"Why not?" Faramir asked, curious about his sister's utter conviction concerning her future nuptials.

"Because in my dream, I married a man with yellow hair like those men from Rohan had." She stood on tiptoe, watching the Riders milling about below, talking amongst themselves or seeing to their mounts.

"But we ourselves have lighter hair, and we're not from Rohan," Faramir said pointedly. "How do you know that the man you saw isn't a man of Gondor who has light hair as we do?"

"I just do," she said confidently. "Besides, our hair isn't yellow, Faramir." Boromir laughed, clearly dismissing Ellemir's dream as childish nonsense.

"Ella, you've never even left Minas Tirith. How are you going to meet this dream husband of yours?" Boromir asked jokingly.

"I don't know, but I know what I dreamed, and it will happen." She raised her chin, giving her eldest brother a haughty stare.

"Whatever you say, little sister," Boromir said indulgently. With a departing laugh, he pushed off the wall and walked away, not noticing how Ellemir's face fell when he dismissed her so completely.

"You believe me, don't you, Faramir?" Ellemir asked, turning pleading eyes on her other brother.

"Yes, Ella, I believe you." And strangely enough, he did, though he knew not why. Faramir knew well enough that dreams were sometimes more than what they seemed.

* * *

Ellemir woke with tears on her face, crying out for Boromir, knowing that it was futile. Boromir was gone, never to return. She felt cold, as despair and hopelessness enveloped her, slowly devouring her soul until she feared there would be nothing left. She was weak, and yet knew not why. The darkness had been closing in on her for many weeks, getting closer with every passing day. Ever since her father had forced her to look into the palantír. She felt a warm hand take her own, and she forced her eyes open, blinking up at the worried face of her brother. 

"Faramir…" she trailed off, her strength waning rapidly. "Do not let the darkness take me, brother," she pleaded, tears slowly falling from her eyes.

"Do not fear, Ella. Please, I beseech you, do not give in to the darkness," he said, his eyes filled with silent pleading. "Don't leave me alone, Ella." He held her hand as she slowly succumbed once more to the unconsciousness that continually gripped her.

"What ails her?" The soft voice came from behind him, and Faramir turned to see a beautiful young woman looking at him from a bed nearby. As before, when he had first set eyes on the fair Éowyn, he was struck by her beauty. Her face was pale, and her eyes were tired, but neither took away from the beauty of her face.

"I know not."

"Surely the healers know," she exclaimed, as she looked past him to where Ellemir lay.

"No. She has been growing weaker for weeks now. I fear she may not survive." Éowyn gazed at the man sitting beside his sister, his pain and weariness evident in his posture. He wore a sling on one arm, and the stiff way in which he held himself told Éowyn that his arm wasn't the only part of him that was injured. She'd seen enough war injuries from her brother and her cousin Thèodred to recognize them when she saw them. Even though he was hurt, he stayed at his sister's side, only leaving her when the healers forced him to.

"Perhaps the Lord Aragorn can help her, as he helped me."

"Battle looms once more, and I fear to bother him," he said, looking down as he struggled to contain his emotions. Though she had only known him a short time, she could see the pain he labored to conceal from everyone.

"Why do you hide what you feel?" Éowyn asked, watching as he hurriedly wiped tears from his eyes.

"Showing emotion makes a man look weak to his men."

"Who told you that?"

"My father."

"Forgive me, but it is foolish to think so. Emotion does not make a man weak, Faramir. It makes him strong, and it shows his men that he cares."

Before Faramir could answer, Éomer walked in, his eyes anxiously seeking his sister, and Éowyn stepped away to meet him.

"How fare you this day, Éowyn?"

"I grow stronger, and am starting to chafe at the restraints of this place."

"You will do what the healers say, Éowyn. They know best," Éomer told his sister sternly, knowing her penchant for rebelling against constraints placed upon her.

"Come, brother. If it were you in my stead, you too would be ready to leave."

"Ah, but we're not talking about me," he said with a grin. Faramir turned his back on the two of them, finding it hard to look upon the happiness of brother and sister when his own sister remained so ill. Seeing him look away, Éowyn's smile faded, and Éomer looked upon her with concern.

"What is it?" he asked her.

"Faramir."

"Who?"

"The injured man there. He is now the Steward of Gondor, and it is his sister who lies there. She isn't well, and the healers can do nothing for her. She is dying."

"Of what?" Éomer asked, looking upon the man with pity. He knew well what it felt like to watch a sister dying.

"No one knows exactly. She weakens from some strange ailment." She grabbed Éomer's hand, her eyes burning into his with intensity. "Éomer, speak to Aragorn. Ask him to come, for if anyone can help her, it is he." Éomer nodded, and with a quick farewell, he left to carry out Éowyn's request.

It was hours later when Éomer returned, and Éowyn sat up hopefully, her eyes questioning.

"He comes," Éomer said, nodding.

"Faramir." Faramir raised his eyes as Éowyn called his name. "Aragorn comes. He will try to heal your sister."

"I fear to hope, for if he cannot heal her, then my sister is lost to me. As my brother is lost to me." He looked back down, watching Ellemir's face contort, though whether in pain or despair he knew not.

"Try not to despair, Faramir. All is not lost yet," Éowyn said, coming to her feet to go to him. She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, wanting to comfort him more than anything.

"She speaks truth, Faramir." At Aragorn's words, Faramir looked up, feeling hope even as he told himself that there was a possibility that Aragorn could not help Ellemir.

Aragorn walked around the bed, and took a seat on Ellemir's other side. Éomer came and stood at his shoulder, not really sure why, but thinking he might offer some support nonetheless.

"What fell deed has done this?" Aragorn asked, looking up at Faramir, his brow creasing with concern.

"I know not. She began to weaken suddenly a few weeks ago, and she was not herself."

"Did something happen that prompted the change?"

"Only that she spent long hours with my father in the White Tower. She would not speak of it, saying only that she provided counsel for him. But she grew weaker with every day she spent in that chamber. There was something evil there, Aragorn."

"The palantír of Minas Anor has wrought this evil, Aragorn." A white figure stepped out of the shadows, presenting the answer that Aragorn sought.

"Mithrandir, what would my father have been doing with a palantír?" Faramir asked, looking up as Gandalf walked closer.

"Forcing your sister to look into its depths and tell him what she saw. Long has the family of the Steward been known for its powers of foresight, and Ellemir's abilities far surpassed that of the rest of your family." Faramir looked stricken, ashamed that his father had acted so dishonorably. Gandalf looked down at him with knowing eyes, and said, "Your father's sins are not your own, Faramir. Do not make them so." Éowyn squeezed Faramir's shoulder comfortingly, and he looked up at her with a grateful smile.

Everyone fell silent as Aragorn put one hand on Ellemir's brow, and took her hand in his other. Time passed, and Éomer brought Éowyn a chair to sit in. Éomer could not say why he remained, for he knew nothing of this girl save that she was the sister of the Steward, but somehow he could not bring himself to leave. The day's toil began to take its toll on him, and he leaned heavily against the wall, his eyes burning with fatigue. Éowyn soon fell asleep, her head pillowed on Faramir's shoulder. Soon, too, did Faramir sway with weariness, but he refused to rest until he knew for sure if his sister would live.

"Ellemir." Aragorn spoke, breaking the stark silence, startling Éomer out of an exhausted stupor. He pushed away from the wall he'd been leaning against and took the few steps to the bed. Faramir was leaning forward, his face alight with joy as he stared down into his sister's eyes.

Ellemir looked up at her brother's happy face, and rewarded it with a sweet smile of her own. Her gaze swept the group standing around her, coming to a stop when she saw Éomer. Her eyes glowed with an inner happiness restored, and she grabbed at Faramir's arm.

"Look, Faramir," she whispered softly. "It's him, the man of the Rohirrim, the one I spoke of. I told you he would come someday. I knew he would come." With one last fond look at Éomer, she closed her eyes and fell instantly into a peaceful sleep.

"Of what was she speaking?" Éomer asked, addressing Faramir.

"I shall leave it to her to say. It is not my place." His own eyes were filled with amusement, as he recalled fondly the many times she had spoken to him and Boromir of her "yellow-haired man of Rohan".

A/N: So, how is it so far? Please read and review!


	3. Chapter 3: A Brief Respite

Disclaimer: I own Ellemir, and that's about it.

A/N: Ok, so there's a lot going on in this chapter, with a lot of flipping between characters, but there was really no way around it, so bear with me if it's a little annoying. Aside from all that, I hope everyone enjoys this chapter.

Chapter 3: A Brief Respite

Éomer sat down with a weary sigh as Aragorn told them of the plan to march on the Black Gates. Their chances of success were slim, but if Aragorn asked him to fight, he would do so without question. Such was his loyalty to the heir of Isildur.

"We will leave at dawn tomorrow. Be well rested, my friends, for this battle will be no easy task," Aragorn said, looking at each of the men he'd called before him. With a final nod, he dismissed them, and sat down on the throne, rubbing at his temple wearily. As the others left, Éomer stopped beside him, resting his hand on Aragorn's shoulder.

"You should get some rest as well, Aragorn. It will do you no good to dwell on things which have not yet come to pass."

"Worry not for me, Éomer. Go now, see to your affairs." With a brisk nod, Éomer left the throne room, his feet carrying him to the House of Healing to see his sister.

When he reached the House of Healing, however, the staff was in a near panic, and Faramir looked exhausted and worried. Éowyn appeared to be trying to comfort him, but he was having none of it. Éomer walked over to the two of them, his brow wrinkling in concern.

"What is it?"

"Ellemir is missing," Éowyn said quietly.

"Your sister?" Éomer asked, addressing the young Steward.

"Yes. No one has seen her. I told them to watch her, but they paid me no mind. I should have known this would happen."

"How is it that you think you should have known?"

"She's done this since she was a small child, Éomer. She has long been known to move about in her sleep. We used to find her all over the grounds, sometimes in the strangest places, and she never had an inkling of how she got there."

"You're saying she walks about in her sleep?"

"Yes. The servants always knew to watch out for her, to guide her back to bed if they found her wandering. But no one here was watching, and now we know not where she is. I have to find her!"

"Faramir, you're in no condition to leave here," Éomer told him, eyeing Faramir's pale, drawn complexion with concern. Sweat stood out on Faramir's forehead, and from the flush on his cheeks, Éomer could tell that the steward wasn't well.

"You don't understand! She's heedless of danger when she does this! When she was eight years old, one of the guards found her perched on the parapets—a gust of wind could have sent her tumbling over the side!"

"Peace, Faramir. I am sure that no ill has befallen her, and she will be found. I will look for her myself," Éomer said, and even as he uttered the words, he wasn't sure what made him volunteer for the task. He certainly had better things to do—sleep was beckoning, and he had yet to take his horse out of the stables for much needed exercise. But Ellemir needed to be found, and Faramir would find no rest until he was assured of his sister's safety. _Even I can see the exhaustion on his face, and worrying over his sister does him no good. _

Faramir turned his back on Éowyn, knowing that she couldn't comfort him. Guilt ate at him as he thought about his sister. He'd always looked out for her, ever since they were small. He and Boromir.

"_Where's your sister?" Denethor asked, addressing his two sons as they took their places at the table. Faramir looked at Boromir questioningly, but Boromir only shrugged. _

"_I've been training with the weapons-master all day. I haven't seen her," Boromir answered._

"_Faramir?" Denethor turned his gaze on his younger son, and Faramir squirmed, knowing that he couldn't say the same thing. He'd spent the day reading, but he couldn't tell his father that, for he knew from experience that Denethor would only berate him, telling him all of the ways in which he could never compare to his older brother._

"_I'll go find her," Faramir said, sliding out of his chair and hurrying from the room before his father could say anything. _

_He looked in all the usual places, but Ellemir was nowhere to be found, and he was beginning to worry. None of the guards knew where she was, which was strange in itself, Faramir knew, because Ella liked to stop and talk to them whenever she got the chance._

"_Ella!" he called out, feeling despair well up. He had to find her._

"_Faramir!" He heard her voice cry out, and he turned frantically, trying to locate her voice._

"_Ella, where are you?"_

"_I'm down here, Faramir! I fell!" He followed the sound of her voice to the edge of the wall, and when he glanced over the side, he was appalled to see his sister perched on a ledge, her face smudged with dirt and streaked with tears as she looked up at him piteously._

"_Ella, what happened?"_

"_I didn't mean to, Faramir, honest. I was just playing," she said weakly. _

"_Can you climb up?"_

"_No. My ankle hurts, Faramir!" _

"_Alright, I'll go get help!"_

"_Don't leave, Faramir! Don't leave me by myself!" she cried out, and Faramir stopped, unsure of what to do. Finally, he threw his leg over the side and slowly climbed down the eight feet to where his sister waited._

_He dropped down beside her, and she threw herself at him, hugging him fiercely. He could feel her shivering, and he quickly took his cloak off and wrapped it around her, pulling her into his lap and holding her tightly. She sniffled, and rested her head on his shoulder. _

"_I'm cold, Faramir," she mumbled. "I want Mama. She'd make everything better." Faramir silently agreed with her, because they both knew that Father couldn't be relied on for comfort. Boromir tried to make everything better, Faramir knew, but he wasn't Mama._

"_Ella! Faramir!" Ellemir lifted her head, looking at Faramir with a smile. _

"_It's Boromir!" she said excitedly. _

"_We're down here!" Faramir called loudly. A second later, Boromir's face peered down at them, almost lost in the falling darkness._

"_What are you doing down there?" Boromir asked incredulously._

"_Ella fell, her ankle's hurt. She didn't want me to leave her alone."_

"_Very well. Wait right there," Boromir said with a playful grin. "I'll bring back help." Faramir nodded and looked down at Ellemir with a sad smile. _

"_Looks like Boromir is going to save the day," he told her softly. _

"_Perhaps. But you could have saved the day if you'd left, but you stayed with me, Faramir. Boromir wouldn't have, and I would have been scared. But I'm not scared when you're here, Faramir," she told him, hugging him tightly once more. "You always take care of me," she said. _

"_And I'll always take care of you, Ella. You're my sister, and that's what older brothers do."_

"_I know you will, Faramir, because you love me," she said, smiling up at him gently._

Faramir smiled as he remembered that day fondly. He'd kept his promise to her, or at least he had until recently. Guilt clawed at him, as he thought of his sister, alone and at the mercy of their father while he was serving with the Ithilien Rangers. And now this…Ellemir was wandering again, and if danger found her…_I should have watched her myself. Then no harm could befall her._ He could only hope that Éomer would find her before anything happened.

* * *

Éomer looked around the immediate grounds surrounding the House of Healing, but it wasn't until he asked a nearby guard that he learned the direction that Ellemir was last seen going in. The only place in the direction the guard pointed him was the stables, and Éomer headed there eagerly. 

The stable master came forward eagerly when he saw Éomer enter, wanting to quickly reassure the horse-lord that he was taking excellent care of the Rohirrim's mounts, but Éomer quickly put a hand up to stop the man.

"Have you seen the lady Ellemir this day?"

"Why, yes, of course, my lord. She's with the horses." Thanking the man, Éomer wandered into the stables, searching each stall for signs of the Steward's sister. He came to a sudden stop when he discovered where she was, for there she sat, on the edge of the stall's low wall, brushing Éomer's horse down.

She didn't appear to notice him standing there, and merely continued to brush Firefoot's gleaming coat. Her eyes seemed not to focus on anything, and Éomer could well see that she wasn't quite aware.

"Lady Ellemir," he said quietly, "Come, it is time you returned to bed."

"You will let me ride him one day," she said softly and confidently, her voice possessing a strange, distant tone as she continued to brush Firefoot's coat.

"Perhaps," Éomer said cautiously, stepping into the stall to help her down.

"Yes," she said knowingly. "But not tomorrow. The battle is tomorrow, and you'll be hurt," she said, her face falling a bit, though she didn't look at him. Finally, she turned her eyes to him, gazing at him as though she saw straight through him. Éomer eyed her warily, sure that the young woman had gone mad. But he had given Faramir his word that he would fetch his sister, and he was loathe to break his promise.

"Come, Ellemir." She placed her hands on his shoulders as he lifted her down from the wall. She grasped his arm at the crook of his elbow, and though her touch was light, Éomer felt it sear through him. As he led the way out of the stables, he took a moment to study her.

Her light, reddish-brown hair cascaded down her back in thick waves, and her eyes were the same grayish-green as her older brother's. She was shorter than him, the top of her head only reaching his shoulder, and to Éomer, she felt as though a strong wind would topple her, so light was she. They'd only taken a few steps out of the stables, when her knees buckled, and Éomer was forced to take her weight suddenly.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I feel weak…but I'm not sure why," she said, sounding puzzled.

"Think nothing of it," he said, smiling at her bewildered tone. He picked her up, cradling the small woman in his arms as he carried her swiftly back to the House of Healing. He waited impatiently for one of the healer's assistants to open the door before he strolled inside.

Faramir looked up, his features expressing his gratitude and his relief when he saw Ellemir in his arms.

"She isn't hurt, is she?" he asked as Éomer went to return Ellemir to her empty bed.

"No, just weak," Éomer answered as he laid her gently on the bed. Ellemir smiled softly up at him before she closed her eyes, her sleep undisturbed by her journey to and from the stables.

"Where did you find her?"

"The stables."

"Ah, I should have thought of that. She's always been fond of horses. Though I can't say she's much of a rider."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Father rarely let her leave the city walls, thus there was really no need for her to ride."

Éomer frowned as he considered the confining restraints that their father had placed on his only daughter.

"That is obscene," he said firmly.

"Yes, well, my father did what he wished, and no one could tell him differently. Even Boromir was incapable of persuading him otherwise when it came to Ellemir."

"Lord Éomer," a voice called, and Éomer turned to see a young page hurrying toward him. "Lord Aragorn asks that you come to the throne room!" the boy said excitedly.

"Very well. Tell him I shall be but a moment." The boy hurried back the way he came, and Éomer turned back to Faramir. "As it appears that my presence is requested in the throne room, I must bid you farewell. Make sure someone keeps an eye on your sister from now on, Faramir."

"Yes, I'll keep that advice in mind, Éomer, thank you," Faramir said with a trace of a smile on his face. He watched the tall Rider stride out of the room before he turned to assure himself that Ellemir was still where Éomer had left her. Finally, with a deep sigh, he felt himself sink into a deep sleep.

* * *

A day's reprieve was all Éomer got before war called again, and it seemed that the lady Ellemir was right. He headed for the House of Healing, wishing to speak with his sister before he rode out. 

And there, lying on a bench outside the House was none other than the lady Ellemir, her face turned lovingly up to the warmth of the sun. Shadows were still present under her eyes, and she still looked weary, but the outdoors appeared to be doing her some good.

"If you seek your sister inside, you will not find her there," she said without opening her eyes. Éomer's step faltered at her words, startled that she had known of his approach without looking.

"It would seem that Gandalf spoke truthfully of your gift of foresight," he said wryly. With a smile, Ellemir opened her eyes, gazing up at him with mirth.

"Yes, it would seem that way, wouldn't it?"

"Well, then, perhaps you could tell me where she is."

"Ah, well, that I do not know. I think she lingers in the gardens with Faramir. We are all restless, tired of the confines of being indoors."

"Yes, well, as it happens, you were right about the approaching battle, so perhaps you are right about this as well," Éomer replied. She slowly sat up, sliding over on the bench with a questioning look at Éomer. With a slight smile, he sat down, grateful to be off his feet, if only for a moment.

"You are weary," she said softly, gazing at him with concern.

"Yes."

"You are a man of many words, my lord Éomer," she said playfully. He chuckled, feeling his heart lighten for the first time in what felt like years. "Conversation requires that you speak so that I may have something to respond to."

"I am much out of practice at conversation then, I think. Unless you wish to speak of swords and spears?" He gave her a smile of his own, to which she shook her head with a laugh.

"No, I should think not. Tell me of your homeland," she said softly.

"Ah, Rohan. Your White City is a marvel, but it has not the beauty of Rohan's plains. Fields of grass as far as the eye can see in every direction. I long to return there, but I fear it shall be some time before I will see my lands again," Éomer said longingly.

"I have never been to Rohan, though long have I wished to visit its plains. Never have I left Gondor, and very seldom have I left the walls of Minas Tirith."

"I know not what I would do if I were placed under such constraints."

"Yes, well, the day will come when I leave this city behind."

"Oh? And where you will go?"

She smiled mysteriously at him, and shook her head. Éomer stood, knowing that his time was short, and he needed to find his sister. Suddenly, Ellemir grabbed his hand, and he looked down at her questioningly.

"Éomer…be careful, please." He nodded, and left for the gardens in search of his sister. Ellemir watched him go, clenching her hands nervously. It was obvious that Éomer made light of her foresight, and she feared that he would fail to heed her words. She could only hope that it would happen as it had happened in her vision and Éomer wouldn't be hurt too severely.

* * *

Faramir held Éowyn close as they waited for the outcome of battle to be decided. For the first time in years, he felt a sense of peace steal over him, and he knew that Éowyn was the cause of it. He felt her hair tickle his face as the wind teased it, lifting the golden strands, tossing them in the wind. 

His arms tightened around her, and Éowyn smiled to herself, feeling as though nothing could hurt her. Though the fate of Middle Earth was undecided, for this one moment, Éowyn could convince herself that everything was alright.

Though he had only known her for a short time, Faramir knew that Éowyn was meant for him. _I wonder what Boromir would think of her…if he were still here._ Not for the first time, Faramir felt a keen sense of loss at the thought of his brother. More than anything, he missed the way Boromir always tried to make things right. Like all men, Boromir had his faults, but deep down, he was a man who cared deeply for others.

With a weary sigh, he rested his chin on the top of Éowyn's head, wishing again that things had turned out differently. He felt a deep sense of hatred pierce him as he realized that his father was to blame for Boromir's death. _It should have been me that went to Rivendell. If Father had only let me go in Boromir's stead, then Boromir would still be alive. _

"Faramir, what is it?" Éowyn asked, sensing a change in his mood.

"It is nothing," he said softly, smiling down at her. But Éowyn knew it was more than that. In the short time that she had known him, she found Faramir to be close-mouthed about his feelings, despite his sensitivity. He wasn't a man who spoke freely of his inner thoughts and feelings, instead guarding them against the interference of others.

"Why would you hide your thoughts from me?" she asked softly.

"They concern things that I do not wish to speak of. With anyone." Faramir's arms fell away from her, and he stepped backwards. His eyes betrayed him, revealing an inner pain that remained deeply imbedded within him. As she gazed at him, he could no longer meet her eyes, and he swiftly turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Éowyn staring at his departing figure.

Ellemir watched from the shadows, feeling her brother's pain as he struggled to deal with all that they had lost. With Boromir gone, Faramir had had no respite from their father's spiteful words. _I wish I could take this pain from you, brother, but alas, I cannot. You must find the strength, or in the end, you will find no happiness._

* * *

At Aragorn's order, Éomer prepared the Rohirrim to ride once more for battle, the loss of his uncle weighing heavily on his mind. 

"I shall not rest, Uncle, until your death be avenged," he murmured, his hand tightening on the hilt of Guthwine. Gárulf rode up beside him, reining his horse in so that he might have a word with his king.

"The men are ready, Éomer King." Éomer turned to look behind him, and pride swelled in his heart as he beheld his people sitting tall and proud upon their steeds. He sat up straighter in the saddle, and pulled his sword, prepared to ride to his death if Aragorn called for it.

As he took his place at Aragorn's side, he roared a battle cry, rousing his men to a fever pitch as they prepared to ride forward once again for death.

"If this be our end, then we shall make it an end to remember!" he yelled, raising his sword high in the air. "They shall speak of us still at the end of days!"

Éomer lost count of the number of orcs and Uruk-hai he killed as the fierce battle for Middle-Earth was waged. His sword dripped with the tainted blood of the enemy, and sweat dripped into his eyes as the enemies continued to pour out of the Black Gate. Though a strong man, his muscles burned from his efforts, straining to hold against the onslaught. Cries of agony blended with the rallying cries of Men who could do nothing but fight on. There would be no retreat from this battle, for the cost of such a move would be far higher. _Most of them do not even understand why we fight at the Dark Lord's gates, yet they fight and they die regardless. _

Éomer had never met this Hobbit called Frodo, but like his men, he fought just the same. If his death could bring about the fall of Sauron, and by so doing, save the people of Middle-Earth, then so be it.

Sensing movement behind him, Éomer turned, just barely managing to bring his sword up in time to block the thrust of an orc blade. His arms rang with numbness as Guthwine met the orc blade in a clash of steel upon steel. With a vicious roar, the orc shifted the sword to one hand, using the other to backhand Éomer and send him sprawling to the ground.

Spitting blood from his mouth, Éomer surged to his feet, bringing Guthwine up in a tight arc, catching the brutish orc with a fierce swing that neatly cleaved his head from his shoulders. With a smile of triumph, Éomer turned, just in time to meet his next opponent. With a guttural yell, he dared the oncoming Uruk to step forward, his sword poised for action. Furious, the Uruk charged, using his body weight to drive Éomer back. Éomer let the Uruk propel him backwards a few steps before he dropped to the ground, using the Uruk's own momentum to force him to fall as he tripped over Éomer. As the Uruk struggled to regain his footing, Éomer shot up and buried his sword in the Uruk's exposed back, feeling the hot spurt of Uruk blood spill over his hands. He bent to pull the sword from the Uruk's body, and let loose an agonized cry as pain lanced through him. He looked down to see a spear protruding from the bottom edge of his hauberk and breast plate.

With a pain-filled roar, Éomer wrenched the bloody spear out, turning a wrath-filled gaze on the Uruk who had stabbed him. Rage filled him and, ignoring the pain, he hefted the spear in his hand and hurled it with all his might at the unlucky Uruk, feeling a dark satisfaction as it met its mark.

He felt the warm blood streaming down his side, but he knew that his only option was to fight on. Gripping his sword, he fought to stay on his feet as another Uruk rushed him. Éomer let his fury overwhelm him, relying on the hot flood of rage to sustain him even as the darkness beckoned.

The high-pitched screams of Ringwraiths and their fell beasts echoed through the air as the battle raged on, but Éomer paid them no mind as Eagles swooped down on the fell beasts, their talons ripping into the beasts with vicious cunning.

Suddenly, an evil scream filled the air, one full of pain and rage, and as the cry echoed across the land, everything stopped. The enemy began to flee, much to their surprise, and in the distance, the black Tower of Barad-Dûr began to crumble, and the sky billowed with fire and smoke.

Éomer stared in wonder as the wave of pressure swept over them and the ground began to crumble where the enemy stood. Cheers and joyful cries went up as the men of Rohan and Gondor realized what was happening, and Éomer's heart swelled with joy and pride. Rock shattered around them as though the very earth was rebelling against the evil that overran it. Fire and ash ascended into the air as Mt. Doom exploded, and silence descended as everyone realized that though the forces of Sauron were defeated, the little hobbit was likely dead. As Éomer watched the volcano continue to spout fiery rock and red-hot lava, he mourned that so many had been lost, including the hobbits,a peaceful, innocentpeople who had no place in war.

His eyes sought Aragorn, spotting him some distance away, and as their gazes met, Éomer smiled triumphantly. Aragorn gave him a weary smile in return, but his smile quickly fell as he watched Éomer sway on his feet.

Calling to Gárulf, Aragorn hurried forward as Éomer staggered, reaching him just as the taller man fell. Éomer struggled to keep his eyes open as he heard Aragorn call his name, but the darkness proved too strong for the warrior of Rohan, and overwhelmed, he finally succumbed.

* * *

Faramir looked up from the game he played with Ellemir, concerned when she stilled and her eyes took on their familiar, faraway look. 

"Ella, what is it?" he asked, as she stared vacantly into the distance, her eyes focused on something only she could see. "What do you see?"

"The battle is won, Faramir. The darkness has fallen…but…"

"What? What else did you see?"

"Tell the healers to be ready. Lord Éomer is hurt."

* * *

A/N: Thanks to all who reviewed! I love hearing what you think, so read and review! 


	4. Chapter 4: Consumed by the Past

Disclaimer: I think we all know at this point what's mine and what isn't. See previous chapters for a better disclaimer.

A/N: Please read and review for me!

Chapter 4: Consumed by the Past

Éomer threw off the blankets covering him, stifling a groan at the pain that lanced through him at the movement. Cradling his side, he slowly stood, breathing a sigh of annoyance as one of the healers hurried toward him.

"Please, Lord Éomer, you must rest! Your wound has not healed yet!"

"Stand aside," Éomer told the man firmly, no longer willing to humor the little man. He pulled himself up to full height, ignoring the stab of pain, and loomed over the healer.

"I think you frighten him, Lord Éomer," said a soft voice, and he turned to see Ellemir looking at him with an amused smile on her face.

"Anything to keep him far from my presence. The man is insufferable, and I find it increasingly difficult to rein in my temper around him."

"Yes, I've heard that about you," she said. She stood and walked closer to him, her gown flowing gracefully around her. As he watched, she opened a trunk and pulled out a tunic and pants to replace the sleepwear that he wore, and she laid it neatly on the bed. "Perhaps you would accompany me to the stables," she suggested. He nodded, giving her a smile in return, and she turned. "I will wait for you outside," she called over her shoulder. He watched her leave, admiring the view before he grabbed up the tunic.

Moments later, he slowly made his way outside, holding himself stiffly, but grateful despite the pain that he was no longer cooped up inside the walls of the House of Healing. He knew he would pay for it later, but looking at Ellemir smiling up at him and breathing the fresh air were well worth it. He offered her his arm, and she placed her hand above his elbow as they slowly made their way to the stables.

"I'm eager to see to Firefoot, for I was unable to care for him."

"Worry not, Lord Éomer. I saw to it that he was well cared for."

"Ah, then I find myself in your debt," he said with a gracious nod.

"I am certain I can find a way for you to repay me soon enough," she said with a coy smile.

"I look forward to it," he replied with a smile. They were silent as they neared the stables, the sounds of horses neighing and stable boys calling out to one another mingling in the air.

"The King's coronation is in a few days," Ellemir said, her eyes glowing with happiness. "I hear that all sorts of guests are coming. Elves, even. And the hobbits that are so highly spoken of will be present as well! I'm very much looking forward to it."

"Ah, yes, the famous hobbits. I have yet to meet the one they call Frodo."

"You know of the others then?"

"Pippin and Merry, yes. Pippin manages to cause a fair amount of trouble if left to his own devices, and Merry was my uncle's esquire. Merry went against my uncle's orders, and joined the Battle of Pelennor Fields at my sister's urging. Small wonder that they were hurt," Éomer answered, shaking his head ruefully.

"What about the elves? Do you know any elves?" she asked excitedly, her fingers tightening around his arm.

"There is an elf that traveled with Aragorn, so yes, I know an elf. His fighting skills are admirable."

"I've never seen an elf," she said, "but I shall meet one at the coronation, I'm sure." They reached Firefoot's stall, and the stallion pushed at Éomer, eager to see his master after such a long absence. Éomer smiled, and spoke to the horse, petting the stallion's neck as a feeling of peace stole through him.

"Hello, Firefoot," Ellemir said, stepping toward the horse with a smile. Éomer thought to caution her before she accidentally startled the normally edgy horse. But Firefoot moved toward her just as eagerly as he'd greeted Éomer, nudging at her hand with his muzzle. Smiling, she opened her hand to reveal lumps of sugar which the horse quickly devoured. Laughing prettily, she petted the horse and stepped away, climbing up onto the low wall that divided the stalls. _A favorite place it would seem. _

"You're ready to return home, aren't you?" he asked the horse, smoothing his hands over the horse's back, as though to assure himself that the horse was alright after the last battle. He looked none the worse for wear, but Éomer had worried.

"Are you thinking of returning to Rohan soon?" Ellemir asked softly, looking down at her hands folded in her lap.

"I shall leave the day after the king's coronation. It is time I returned to my people."

"But, you can't—it's too soon!" she cried, looking at him with dismay.

"I must see to it that my uncle is buried in the ways of our people. And Rohan needs their king."

"But surely they can wait a little longer," she said, trying to convince him.

"It is not fair to ask them to do so, Ellemir," he chided softly, sorry that she was upset, but knowing there was little to be done about it.

"Yes, you're right," she murmured. She hopped down from her perch on the wall and with one last look at him, slowly shouldered past him and walked away. Éomer watched her go and mumbled a soft curse.

"Don't look at me like that," he muttered to the horse, as Firefoot looked at him balefully.

"I can't very well leave Rohan to care for itself while I tarry here to enjoy a woman's company." The horse nudged his shoulder, neighing at him, and he shook his head. "No, not even for the company of such a woman as Ellemir. Though she is beautiful, isn't she, Firefoot?" Weary, he leaned his head against the horse, closing his eyes for a moment as he inhaled the unique scent of a horse, the smell mingling with the smell of the leather saddles hanging around the stables. _If I close my eyes, it is almost as though I am home_, he thought_. Oh to be home again…_He missed the open plains of Rohan, the oceans of grass that seemed to go on forever, the sight of the Golden Hall rising up over Edoras. With a sigh, he turned away and slowly began to make his way to the room that was designated for him. Though he had given the healer the impression that he would return to the House of Healing, he had no intention of subjecting himself to the torture of the healer's presence any longer. So to his own bed he would go.

As he lay down with a groan, a picture rose in his mind, and he found himself hard-pressed to dispel the image of Ellemir as she had walked away. _Perhaps I should have gone after her_, he thought. He had never been particularly good with emotional displays, especially when it came to women, and it had simply not occurred to him to pursue her. At least, not until it was too late to do anything about it. _I shall look for her tomorrow,_ he told himself as he at last succumbed to sleep.

* * *

He found her sitting in one of the many gardens, her emerald green gown sweeping the grass behind her as she slowly walked the paths, filling a basket with flowers. Without looking up, she began to speak to him, continuing to pick flowers without thought. 

"My father used to forbid me to pick any of the flowers here. But he's not here anymore, and now it doesn't matter," she said softly. "I can pick as many as I want." Éomer frowned, struck by how uncaring her father sounded. He couldn't understand the sadness in her voice as she spoke the words. To love someone who, according to all accounts, had never loved in return made no sense to Éomer.

"Ellemir, what is it?" he asked, grasping her arm softly to halt her movements.

"I don't want you to go," she murmured, picking up a rose in her hand. "Everyone leaves, and they never return." The basket fell from her hands, the flowers spilling across the grass, and she suddenly threw herself into his arms, sobbing pitifully into his shoulder. "Please don't go, Éomer! I fear you'll leave and never return!"

He rocked her in his arms, unsure of quite what to do. Éowyn had never been prone to this sort of emotional outburst. _No, she is more likely to throw things than cry. So what does one do with a crying female?_

"Ellemir, nothing will happen to me. I shall return," he told her, hoping that his words would comfort her. He wasn't quite sure how it had happened, but she had become quite attached to him, and just as mysteriously, he had become attached to her as well.

"Boromir said that as well," she cried softly. "He kept his word—he did return. He came by way of the river, his body laid to rest as the river Anduin carried him to the lands beyond. He fell into the shadow, and he was lost to us." With a cry of anguish, she turned away, looking down at the fallen flowers with unspoken sorrow. She knelt, picking up the basket, gazing forlornly at the crushed and broken flowers even as she cried, and in despair, she flung the basket away from her.

"Ellemir, I can help you pick new ones," he offered in a gentle tone.

"It is of no use, Éomer, don't you see? The flowers are lost, and I find I haven't the heart for it anymore." She slowly swept past him, and he let her go once more, knowing that some hurts simply couldn't be healed. Some went too deep, and no amount of comfort could ever fully take it away.

* * *

The day of Aragorn's coronation dawned, and Éomer stiffly put on his gold-embroidered tunic, wincing at the pain the movement caused. Though he knew that tomorrow's ride home would be a painful one, he knew that he couldn't afford to be away from his people any longer. So he would have to ride despite his wound, and he knew he might as well get used to the pain. He strapped on his sword and grabbed his cloak. Outside the door, he met Éowyn, who eyed him critically before shaking her head. 

"Honestly, Éomer, this is Aragorn's coronation—at least comb your hair," she scolded.

"My hair is fine," he replied with a scowl. She grabbed his arm and pulled him back into the room, sitting him down on a bench at the foot of the bed while she picked up a comb.

"I could braid the sides for you," she offered, but he shook his head.

"No, I'll look like the elf. Just comb it," he said impatiently, eager to be gone.

"Very well. You're so stubborn, brother--"

"I neither want nor need a lecture from you, little sister," he told her with irritation.

"I do hope you're not going to be irritable all day. It would certainly ruin the mood," Éowyn chided.

"Éowyn," he said threateningly. He knew he was being difficult, but the aching pain in his side and a sleepless night had left him in a foul mood. He waited impatiently for Éowyn to finish combing his hair before slowly coming to his feet, suppressing a groan.

"Éomer, are you in pain?" she asked him worriedly, noting the wince he didn't manage to hide.

"Nothing I cannot handle, Éowyn," he said, his tone softening at the concern in her voice. "Come, let us go. We shouldn't keep the king waiting." She smiled back at him, taking his arm, and together they walked to the citadel lawn.

A crowd was gathered already, a rowdy one at that, with Rohirrim and Gondorian alike basking in the joy and excitement of a new age. Spotting Faramir, Éowyn reached up and kissed her brother's cheek and left to go to Faramir, leaving Éomer to watch as Faramir kissed Éowyn's hand with a gentle smile. _I'll have to watch that one—he's entirely too interested in my sister._ He looked around for Ellemir, thinking to return the favor with the Steward's sister, but was disappointed to see that she was nowhere in sight. Before he could look for her, however, the ceremony began.

A solemn air swept through the crowd, and poignant memories rushed to the forefront of Éomer's mind as he thought of all that had been lost. Grief swamped him as he thought of Théoden, his body lying in state among the dead in the mausoleum of Minas Tirith. Pain from his wound mingled with the pain in his heart, leaving him aching and wanting nothing more than to be alone.

The ceremony passed by in a blur, and the next thing Éomer knew, Aragorn was striding past him, a majestic crown seated on his brow. Éomer nodded, and the king nodded in return, passing by as he walked toward the tree that rose from the ground. The crowd parted, revealing a large party of elves, elegant and poised amongst the people of Gondor and Rohan. As Éomer watched, a slender elven woman slowly stepped before the king, and Aragorn stilled, his eyes searching her face. A second later, he grabbed her shoulders and kissed her deeply. Éomer smiled, nodding in appreciation. It was very much something that he himself would do, and he applauded the king on his bold move. _Too many Gondorians are too fond of subtlety. I much prefer the more straightforward behavior of my own people, and so it would appear that Aragorn does as well._

As the crowd began to mingle and celebrate once more, Éomer made his way to Faramir's side, wishing to question the Steward. Ignoring the pain of his wound, he pushed through the crowd, and grabbed Faramir's shoulder, turning the Steward around so that he could question him properly. Seeing that her brother wanted a word with Faramir, Éowyn excused herself with a smile and went to give her regards to the elven woman who would no doubt be queen.

"Where is Ellemir?" Éomer asked abruptly.

"Her dreams were plagued by nightmares, visions," Faramir said softly, looking at Éomer with sad eyes. "It upset her, and she didn't sleep well, so she stayed in her room to rest this morning."

"She was looking forward to today," Éomer commented. "She wanted to see the elves."

"Yes, she's never seen one before. We don't see many elves in Gondor. The lack of trees, I think," Faramir said ruefully.

"Or perhaps it is the stone. You have a considerable lack of open spaces in your city, Steward. I find that I much prefer the open plains of Rohan. The idea of living enclosed in stone disturbs me."

"You may be correct, but at least if the reason lies in the trees we have a chance of remedying the situation. We can always plant more trees," Faramir said with a smile. Before Éomer could respond, a woman's voice cried out, catching their attention.

"Lord Faramir!" A serving woman hurried forward, straining to reach them through the throngs of people.

"What is it?" Faramir asked with concern etching his brow.

"It's your sister, milord. She's having one of her spells again, and I can't wake her! She's fretful, thrashing about and calling for…" She trailed off, and Éomer looked at Faramir, wondering if the steward knew what she had been about to say. Judging from the look on his face, Éomer guessed that he did.

"I'm right behind you," Faramir said, indicating that the woman was to lead the way. "Éomer, I'm afraid you'll have to excuse me," he told him regretfully.

"I'll come with you," Éomer said, curious to see for himself what the serving woman had spoken of.

"Very well. Follow me."

* * *

In her room, Ellemir slept, and as she slept, she dreamed… 

"_Boromir, where are you going?"_

"_To Rivendell," he answered grimly. She drew her breath, a heavy feeling spreading through her._

"_No, you can't, Boromir"_

"_Father wishes me to go, Ella. I cannot refuse. I shan't be gone long," he told her reassuringly._

"_No, you don't understand. It's not supposed to be you…it should be another that goes." Hearing the fear and worry in her voice, he turned away from his horse and came to her, his eyes meeting her own as he grasped her shoulders. _

"_Little sister, do not worry—I'll be alright. All will be well, and I will return, I promise you." He kissed her forehead in farewell, and flashed her a familiar cocky grin as he turned away and swiftly mounted his horse. Ellemir watched him leave with a sinking feeling in her heart, tears flowing down her face unchecked. Faramir stepped up behind her, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. She turned and buried her face in his chest, beginning to cry as her brother stood helplessly, watching Boromir riding away, leaving him with their sister._

"_Ella, you must calm yourself. You'll only make yourself ill if you carry on this way," Faramir told her softly, holding his younger sister in his arms as though he could protect her from all the harms of the world._

"_You don't understand, Faramir," she cried. "We'll never see him again—I know it!" _

"_Perhaps it was only a dream, Ella," he said softly._

"_No, Faramir. It wasn't." _

_Abruptly, the dream shifted, and Ellemir found herself watching as Boromir tussled playfully with two small figures. _Hobbits!_ she thought happily. She'd never seen one before, of course, but she recognized them for what they were. Boromir was trying to teach the two hobbits swordplay. It was a task he'd always relished, having taught Ellemir the same skills he was now teaching the hobbits. She laughed as they overpowered him, knocking him to the ground. _It will do him good to be knocked down a bit—he's far too arrogant sometimes_, she thought with a smile. _

_Suddenly, the dream shifted again, and Ellemir felt horror well up inside her as she realized what she was about to see._

_Boromir's sword flashed, left then right, as he fought the Uruk-Hai who seemed to spill out of the trees as though their number was endless. Sweat poured down his face, drenching his hair, but he ignored it and fought on. He raised the Horn of Gondor to his lips, releasing a deep sound that echoed through the trees. Ellemir felt the sound reverberate in her chest, and she cried out, knowing that something bad was about to happen. The horn fell from Boromir's lips as he quickly brought his sword up to parry an Uruk-Hai blade. The little hobbits looked on, their faces mirroring the horror that Ellemir felt at watching her brother fight an enemy that far outnumbered him. She watched as they bravely tried to help by hurling stones at the enemy and wielding their small swords despite their less than noble stature. Spying the Uruk-Hai with a crossbow behind Boromir, Ellemir cried out, her heart pounding in fear._

"_Boromir, behind you!" she screamed. But he didn't hear her. She knew he wouldn't, but she screamed his name anyway, wishing that somehow, this time would be different. The arrow flew, and Boromir gasped at the impact, shock on his face as he looked down at the arrow in his chest. With a groan, he surged upward, bringing his sword up in an arc that caught an attacking Uruk across the chest. Ellemir could see the pain and exhaustion on his face as he struggled to keep fighting. She ran forward, sobbing as she tried to reach him. But no matter how hard she ran, she couldn't reach him. She stumbled, falling to the ground as arrows continued to pierce Boromir's armor. And finally, he could fight no more. Ellemir covered her face with her hands, unable to bear it as he fell to his knees. _Please, wake up, _she told herself. Tears poured down her face as she uncovered her face, hoping that she would be in her bed once more. But Boromir still knelt on the ground, looking up into the face of the Uruk who had shot the arrows. "Stop," she screamed as the Uruk brought up the crossbow once more. "No! Boromir!"_

_Suddenly, it was no longer Boromir who knelt there, but Éomer instead. A scream caught in her throat—_

"Ella, wake up."

She came awake screaming, crying out for a brother that would never come. Through the blur of tears, she saw Faramir sitting on the edge of the bed looking worriedly at her. She threw herself into his arms, sobbing as she held on to him.

"Faramir, why won't it stop? Boromir's dead—why must I watch it happen again?" she cried.

"Of what does she speak?" Éomer asked as Faramir rocked her back and forth.

"She watched our brother die," Faramir said softly.

"But how could that be? Your brother was far from here, and Ellemir has never left Gondor."

"You misunderstand, Éomer," Faramir said in a distracted tone. He looked around the room as though seeking something, before he looked at Éomer once more. "That cloth over there, wet it for me, please." Éomer turned, spying the cloth lying on the dressing table. A bowl of water sat nearby, and he dipped the cloth into the water, watching as it soaked up the water. He squeezed the excess water out before handing it to Faramir, watching from a place by the door as Faramir used it to wipe the tears from Ellemir's face. She looked down at her hands, clenched painfully in her lap, before she looked up and saw Éomer standing there.

With an unwavering gaze, she stared at him, a look of despair coming over her, and Éomer frowned.

"Ella, what is it?" Faramir asked her gently, seeing how her eyes lingered worriedly on Éomer. She slowly pulled her eyes away from Éomer to look at her brother.

"Faramir," she whispered. "He must not leave the White City on the morrow. Promise me," she said, staring into her brother's eyes.

"What did you see?"

"Faramir, please, you must not let him leave."

"Sister, he is a man of Rohan, and not easily swayed. He means to return to Rohan, and I doubt that there is anything I can say to change his mind."

Ellemir stared at her brother hopelessly as tears slowly trickled down her face. She threw aside the blankets and stood, running past them to the balcony doors. With one last look, she stepped out onto the balcony and quietly shut the doors.

"Will she be alright out there alone?"

"She'll be fine," Faramir said quietly.

"What did she say to you?" Éomer asked, his eyes watching Ellemir through the glass doors.

"You must not leave on the morrow."

"Faramir, I have been away from my home and my people for far too long. I will not delay."

"Will one day make such a difference then?"

"Yes. And unless you plan to fight me, I would not advise standing in my way," Éomer said grimly.

Faramir sighed, heartsick and weary of the trials he was forced to endure.

"I thought you would feel that way," he said. He stood and motioned for Éomer to follow him, his sister watching with quiet sorrow as the man of Rohan walked away.

* * *

"She will not see us off then?" Éomer asked Faramir as he mounted Firefoot the next morning. The day for their departure had come, and Éomer was disappointed to see that Ellemir was not with her brother. 

"I'm sorry, Éomer," Faramir said regretfully. "I thought that she would surely come to bid you farewell, but she refused to answer when I called to her through the door. I imagine she is upset that you will not stay."

"Tell her that I will return ere long for my sister. I expect you to see to it that no harm comes to Éowyn."

"Brother, I will be quite safe here with Faramir," Éowyn cut in. "And I'm sure I will be quite content to remain until you return."

"I wouldn't dream of letting any harm befall your sister, Éomer," Faramir said with a smile. Éomer frowned, still uncomfortable with the thought of leaving Éowyn in Minas Tirith, despite her assurances that all would be well. Éowyn, standing beside Faramir, smiled at her brother, amused by his obvious discomfiture.

"Very well, sister. I shall see you when next I return." He kissed her forehead and turned to mount. He sighed, wincing at the pain in his wound, but he pushed it aside as he always did when wounded, and caught up the reins in his hand.

"Riders of Rohan!" he yelled, garnering the attention of the Rohirrim saddled up and awaiting his command. "Let us ride now for Rohan!" He spurred the horse to a gallop, quickly taking the lead at the head of the column as they rode for home. The feel of the horse beneath him sent a burst of joy through his heart and he let out a yell that was quickly taken up the Rohirrim as they galloped away from the city.

Faramir watched them leave with a smile, before he turned to Éowyn.

"Come, I think I should see to my own sister. I have seen naught of her since yesterday." A trace of worry grew in Faramir's mind as he realized how rare an occurrence it was for Ellemir to go unseen for so long. The two of them made their way up the stairs, and Faramir knocked softly at Ellemir's door.

"Ella? Ella, open the door, please." There was no reply, and Éowyn looked at him questioningly.

"What do we do now?"

"This isn't like her," Faramir said with worry. He stared at the door, debating before he finally turned the latch and opened the door. It opened easily and he strode in with Éowyn at his heels, coming to an abrupt halt that almost caused Éowyn to run into him. The room was empty, and Ellemir was nowhere to be seen. Something, instinct or premonition, told him that Ellemir would not be found in the city.

"We have to find her," Faramir whispered.

* * *

A/N: Please read and review! 


	5. Chapter 5: Left With No Choice

Disclaimer: See previous chapters.

A/N: I just want to point out that I'm not an expert on horses, by any means. I think I avoided writing anything that involved extensive knowledge of horses, but if I did manage to mess something up, I'm apologizing ahead of time.

Chapter 5: Left with No Choice

Ellemir could feel the weariness that was so much a part of her now hovering at the edge of her consciousness, and she wished she could rest, if only for a little while. But she knew she couldn't stop now. She'd left Minas Tirith before dawn, knowing with certainty that her only hope lay in getting ahead of Éomer and his men. _Though I do not know what I will do after that._ She had been riding for several hours now, having pushed her horse at a fast gallop for as long as she thought the horse could comfortably endure. They had slowed to a canter, and Ellemir was fairly confident that she had managed to get ahead of them.

_If only Éomer had not proved to be so stubborn. That's just like a man of Rohan, to be as stubborn as one of his beloved horses. _Éomer hadn't listened, and now she was forced to save him from his own stubbornness. She knew Faramir would be worried, but there was no help for it. _I'm sorry, Faramir, but I had to leave. Éomer left me with no choice. _

A cold wind was blowing in from the north, and Ella pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders as a chill swept her. Not for the first time, she questioned her decision to leave Minas Tirith, and worry ate at her. A sudden sense of urgency swept her, and she was once again reminded of the importance of the task laid before her. Resolute, she urged the horse into a gallop once more, praying that the Valar would keep her in the saddle. _Curse my father for not letting me ride more,_ she thought with annoyance, and not a little bit of bitterness._ Pray I don't break my neck_. She held the reins in tightly fisted hands, holding on as she leaned close to the horse's neck. She had tried not to let on to the pretty mare how nervous she was—Boromir had once told her that horses sensed fear. _He was so rarely wrong about that sort of thing._ For that reason alone, Ellemir had chosen one of the most gentled horses in the stables, a mare called Gingernut for her golden-brown coloring. She was one of the few horses that Ellemir had ever ridden, and she had proved to be good-natured and reliable.

A wave of dizziness suddenly assailed her and she felt herself sway in the saddle. Her fingers suddenly numb, the reins fell from her fingers and the last thing she felt was her body falling forward against the horse's neck as she suddenly recalled why she had ridden so rarely as a child.

* * *

Garulf looked at Éomer out of the corner of his eye, worried about him. Though Éomer wouldn't admit it, Garulf knew that his king was tired and in pain. They'd ridden for most of the day, and Garulf saw well enough how Éomer tried to hide his pain from his men. Pride was abundant among the Rohirrim, but Éomer had more than his fair share of it—he wouldn't stop unless he was forced to it. Garulf was about to speak up when Éomer straightened, his eyes narrowing on something in the distance. 

"Éomer, what is it?"

"There's something ahead—do you see it?" Garulf turned to look in the direction he indicated, squinting to see. Éomer was known for his hawk-like gaze, often noticing things before even the scouts did. He could barely make out a form in the distance, but he knew not what it was.

"I see something, surely, Éomer, but I can't tell what it is. Can you make out any details?"

"No...Aeofrith," Éomer yelled, calling for one of his scouts. A lean, muscular man rode up, bowing his head respectfully, and waiting for Éomer's orders. "Ride ahead and report back to me what you find. Be cautious—there could be rogue Orcs that escaped the rout at the Black Gate."

"Yes, my lord," the scout replied, before spurring his horse to a gallop. The rest of the eored came to a halt as they all waited for Aeofrith to return. Some of the men took the opportunity to stretch their legs, but Éomer remained in the saddle, not sure that he'd be able to mount up again if he were to dismount.

Finally, Aeofrith galloped back to them, leading another horse by the reins.

"A mare, my lord," Aeofrith said with a playful smirk. "From Minas Tirith, I'd say, judging by the saddle."

"Any sign of a rider?"

"No, my lord—nothing. I think she's been roaming for quite awhile, but I don't think she's gone far from her rider."

"Did you check the saddlebags?"

Aeofrith shook his head, and dismounted, moving to the saddlebags to check them. He opened the first one, and his eyes widened before he turned back to Éomer.

"These belong to a woman, my lord," he said grimly.

"And you have reason for this assumption?"

"Yes, my lord," he replied, pulling out a hairbrush. "No man would be so foolish as to load his saddlebags with a hairbrush."

Éomer had to concede to the logic of Aeofrith's assumption, and he rubbed at his jaw thoughtfully. Annoyed, he sighed before looking down at Aeofrith who still stood holding the offending saddlebag.

"There's a woman somewhere close who is without her horse, possibly injured. We need to find her. Take Darufin and start searching." Aeofrith gave a swift nod and leapt back into the saddle, calling for the other scout to follow him.

* * *

Ellemir blinked unseeing eyes at the sky, her body trembling as she lay unmoving on the ground. She could feel tears leaking from her eyes, but couldn't find it in herself to lift her hand to wipe them away. Her throat felt raw, as though she'd been screaming, but she couldn't remember. Her limbs felt heavy, and exhaustion pulled at her, as it always did after a waking vision. So seldom were they that she had given it little thought when she'd left. She shouldn't have forgotten—this wasn't the first time this had happened. It had been the first time she'd been allowed to ride alone in the saddle, and Boromir had been taking her for her first ride. She'd been all of six years old… 

"_Boromir, look at me, look at me!" Boromir smiled up at her as he shortened the stirrups for her. "Don't I look pretty?" she asked, sitting proudly in the saddle. He laughed, amused by his younger sister's vainness. _At six, _he thought, _she's already well on her way to being a typical female—always concerned with her appearance.

"_Yes, Ella, you look pretty," he said with a smile, watching with amusement as she preened with pleasure. "Does that feel alright?" he asked, referring to the stirrups as he slipped her feet into them. _

"_Yes, it's perfect! Let's be off, now—I'm ready!" As Boromir went to his own horse and mounted, Ellemir continued to chatter happily. "Mama would be so proud of me, don't you think? I'm going to ride really well, Boromir, and then maybe Papa will notice! Do you think he'll be proud, too?"_

"_Sure, Ella, of course he would be," Boromir told her, unwilling to dash her hopes. The truth was, Denethor would scarcely give her a glance. He'd never been the same after their mother died, and he ignored his youngest children more often than not. Or rather, he ignored Ellemir, and rebuked Faramir at any opportunity. In essence, they had lost not only their mother, but their father as well, and Boromir was left to be both parents for his younger siblings. _

_They rode out of the stable, Boromir taking the lead as they began to slowly ride towards the gate. He chafed at the slow pace, but knew better than to speed up._ Ella isn't quite ready for a gallop yet, but one day, I'll teach her. I'll teach her everything she needs to know_. Ellemir's voice captured his attention once more as she called out happily, her eyes on one of the rare trees that stood by the path. _

"_Faramir," she cried, catching sight of her brother sitting comfortably in the vee of a low hanging branch. "Come ride with us!" Faramir smiled and closed the book he'd been engrossed in, jumping lightly to the ground. _

"_Alright, wait for me!" He hurried to the stables while Boromir and Ellemir waited, the former with a dignity that came with age while the latter practically vibrated with impatience. _

"_Hey, I know," Ellemir said suddenly, "let's have a picnic!" Boromir groaned at the suggestion, even as Ellemir raised her voice, hollering for a servant to bring food for them to take with them. _

"_Ella, we can't be gone long—I have training this afternoon."_

"_Please, Boromir," she begged with wide, pleading eyes. Boromir sighed, knowing that he'd never been able to deny his only sister anything—why should this time be any different? She smiled prettily at him, knowing that she'd won, and Boromir didn't argue when one of the servants began to tie the packets of food and a blanket to the back of his saddle. _

_Faramir returned shortly thereafter, out of breath as he led a friendly dun toward them by the reins. _

"_Come, Faramir—mount up. We should be going." The younger boy clambered up into the saddle, and the three siblings set out, Ellemir singing happily in the saddle. Faramir rolled his eyes, smiling as Ellemir proceeded to slaughter a well-known song, her voice loud and off-key. _

"_You sing it now, Faramir! You sing it better," she said, her cheeks rosy with happiness._

"_Yes, Faramir, do sing it for her," Boromir said, shaking his head at their sister's horrible singing. _She certainly didn't inherit Mother's singing voice_, he thought with a grimace. _

_Faramir dutifully obeyed, instantly picking up where Ellemir had left off. Before long, Boromir became caught up in the spirit of the moment and he soon joined in, and though his voice was not as pure as Faramir's, he held his own against his younger brother. The two were surprisingly in tune with one another, Boromir's voice complimenting Faramir's in just such a way to produce a unique harmony. Ellemir, not to be outdone by her brothers, joined in once more, raising her voice to be heard above their own. They finished the song, and Faramir picked another to sing, which they all sang together. Pretty soon, Ellemir wasn't so much singing as screaming the words of the song, and Boromir winced. Suddenly, she quit singing, her voice cutting off abruptly, and Boromir turned in the saddle to look back at her._

"_Ella, what is it?" At Boromir's question, she turned to him with bewildered eyes as her face slowly drained of all color._

"_I don't feel well…" Her voice trailed off and her eyes slowly rolled back as she fell from the saddle, landing in a heap on the ground. _

She still remembered the vision she'd had that day, how she'd seen Scatha, her beloved pet, as though he'd been right there. He'd been killed later that day, trampled by one of the horses in the stables when he'd gotten underfoot. She'd been heartbroken to discover his death, and though Boromir had offered to get her another, she had refused to hear of it. She hadn't had another dog since. After that day, she'd never been allowed to ride alone again for fear that she would have another vision like that first one. She'd been lucky this day, Ellemir knew, because she could have broken her neck in the fall or been trampled herself.

Suddenly, she felt a hand on her arm, and she slowly turned her head to look up into a pair of bright, blue eyes. A man knelt beside her, gazing worriedly down at her.

"My lady, are you injured?"

"I don't know," she murmured, her voice hoarse and dry. The man put his arm beneath her back, helping her to a sitting position, and she clutched his arm, waiting for the wave of dizziness that assailed her to pass. He held out a skein of water, holding it to her lips as she took a sip. She drank deeply before gently pushing it away, breathing a deep sigh of relief. Her thirst satisfied, she looked up at the man who knelt at her side, staring at him curiously. "Who are you?"

"I am Aeofrith, son of Ganeth. I am a scout from the Eastfold."

"The Eastfold—where is that?"

"The eastern lands of Rohan."

"Rohan? You mean, I've found it?" she asked, her face lighting up with excitement.

"No, my lady, we're still quite far from Rohan—several days at least, by my guess," he replied with a smile.

"Then, why are you so far away from your lands?" she asked, trying to hide her disappointment.

"I ride with Éomer King. We were returning from the White City."

"Éomer?" Her eyes widened with excitement, and she looked around expectantly. "Where is he? Is he near?" Aeofrith smiled at her excitement, and helped her to her feet, waiting for her to regain her footing before he answered.

"He is close by, my lady. He awaits our return with the rest of the eored. Come." She let him lead her to his horse, the reins held by another man, who looked at them questioningly, but said nothing. She leaned heavily on Aeofrith as she felt her legs tremble at her weight, and sensing this, Aeofrith took as much of her weight as he could without carrying her.

"Your companion, who is he?" she asked quietly, referring to the man they were walking toward.

"He is Darufin, another of the King's scouts. Éomer King sent both of us to search for you."

"How did you know I was here?" she asked softly, looking at him as he lifted her onto his saddle. He climbed up behind her and took the reins, his arms locked around her to keep her from falling. As they settled into a slow canter, the other man fell in behind them without a word.

"We found your horse, my lady. The king thought it best for us to find her rider. Forgive me if I am being too forward, my lady, but how did you lose your horse?"

"It's embarrassing, really…but I'm afraid I fell from the saddle." She decided against telling him of her vision, hoping he would not question her further. But he said nothing, his mouth quirked as he tried to hide a smile at her answer, and she looked back at him with mock severity. "Yes, I'm sure you find it quite amusing, horselord, but not all of us are such excellent riders as the men of Rohan."

"I'm sure you ride quite well, my lady," Aeofrith said diplomatically, and she giggled.

"The truth is, Aeofrith, I haven't ridden alone since I was a small child. I must confess I'm not a good rider," she said sheepishly. A wave of weariness swept over her, and she settled back against him, fighting the tiredness that assailed her.

"Then perhaps we can teach you," he offered, and she smiled sleepily, even as she felt her eyes drifting shut.

"Yes, I'd like that," she murmured as she closed her eyes.

"My lady, you never told me your name," Aeofrith said, but she didn't answer, and Aeofrith looked down to see that she was sleeping. He shook his head and looked back at Darufin. "She knows the king," he told the other scout. Darufin quirked an eyebrow at the news, but said nothing, as usual.

* * *

Éomer waited impatiently as Garulf retied the bandaging around his torso. Garulf had insisted on checking Éomer's wound, and Éomer had known he would have no peace until he gave in, so he had relented. Hearing the familiar sound of hoof beats, he came to his feet, ignoring Garulf's protest. 

"The scouts have returned, my lord," someone yelled out, and Éomer shrugged Garulf's hand from his shoulder and pulled his tunic back on as he strode towards the returning scouts. Darufin was lifting a small form from Aeofrith's horse when Éomer approached, Garulf a step behind him. Familiar light, reddish-brown hair caught the sunlight, and Éomer suddenly came to a halt as he realized with a sinking feeling who it was that Darufin held.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for the reviews, you guys! You're great! Keep 'em coming for me! 


	6. Chapter 6: Traveling Companions

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

A/N: Thanks for being patient, everyone! I will go ahead and apologize for any mistakes that may be present--I didn't want to make you all wait any longer for this chapter by emailing it to my LOTR beta, so just pray that I found the mistakes and fixed them before I uploaded.

Chapter 6: Traveling Companions

"Ellemir." Hearing her name, Ellemir opened her eyes to see Éomer looking down at her with a shocked expression. Her face lit up with excitement and she lunged from Darufin's arms suddenly, almost falling in her haste to get to him. Éomer caught her, pleasantly surprised when her arms went around his neck as she hugged him.

"Ellemir," Éomer began again, "why have you come?"

"Well, it isn't as though you left me with much choice," she scolded. "I suppose it is up to me to save you from your own stubbornness."

"And how is it that you expect to do that? You already lost your horse, and everything you put into your saddlebags. That leaves you empty-handed, and it seems unlikely that you would be able to keep anyone safe," he said pointedly. His tone was not mocking, but Ellemir knew he was trying to make a point.

"I would have found a way," she said stubbornly.

"Ellemir, do you even know where you are?" he asked her, quirking his eyebrow rather imperiously at her. She looked around as if gauging her position before turning back to Éomer with wide, innocent eyes.

"Outside," she replied with a smile, mirth in her eyes. The men standing around them began to chuckle and laugh as Éomer groaned.

"I find it hard to believe that Faramir would simply give you leave to wander Middle Earth without so much as a guide. I cannot imagine what he was thinking." Ellemir looked away, clasping her hands together in front of her as she gazed about innocently. A little too innocently. Éomer's eyes narrowed and he stared down at her, using his finger to tip her chin up so that she was looking him in the eye. "Unless…Ellemir, does your brother know that you are no longer in Minas Tirith?"

"Well, that depends."

"On what?" he asked, almost afraid to voice the question.

"On whether or not he got the letter I left for him."

"You left him a mere letter?" he asked incredulously.

"Why, yes, of course. I couldn't leave without letting him know where I was bound for—he would worry."

"Then why did you not simply tell him?"

"Because he would have tried to stop me, Éomer. Honestly," she said with a hint of exasperation. She shook her head at him as she began to fluff the folds of her dress, trying to shake out the wrinkles as Éomer looked on in helpless consternation.

"So now that you are here, what am I to do with you?"

"You shall take me with you."

"Ellemir, I cannot very well take you to Rohan with me," he said exasperatedly.

"What other choice do you have?" she countered. "If you have to ride all the way back to Minas Tirith, then you delay your return to Rohan. And you dare not send me back alone—what if I were hurt? Of course, you could spare some of your men to see me back safely, but I do not think you wish to delay their return home any more than your own."

She looked at him with her eyes gleaming, and they both knew that she had him trapped. He scowled, his temper beginning to fray along with his patience at the realization that he'd been beat. Éomer was never one to take defeat well, and he struggled to contain his ire. She was right. He had no choice but to take her along.

"Bring her horse," he said shortly, and she smiled softly, reaching up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek before she turned to see Darufin leading her mare by the reins.

"Gingernut!" She ran to the horse with a happy smile, hugging Gingernut's neck as the mare affectionately nipped at her shoulder. Without a word, Darufin helped her to mount, and within moments, the Rohirrim rode onward.

* * *

The further they rode, the worse Ellemir felt. There was a growing sense of dread in the pit of her stomach, and she rubbed at her temple, trying vainly to relieve the throbbing in her head. Ahead, she could just see Éomer's plume over the top of the warriors who rode with him. She felt slightly hurt that he rode with his men instead of with her, but then, in her present state, it was not as though she would be much company. The swaying of the horse was beginning to make her feel queasy, and she worried her bottom lip with her teeth as she tried to distract herself from how miserable she felt. She didn't want to complain, as it was quite obvious that she was out of her element. _I don't wish to give Éomer another reason to think me an incompetent rider, _she thought. But she really didn't think she could go much further. _Maybe if we could stop, not for long, only for a few moments…_

"Aeofrith," she said softly. Beside her, the scout turned to see her swaying in the saddle, her face decidedly pale. "Can we stop, please? Just for a moment?" She began to slump to the side, and Aeofrith lunged, catching her as she started to slip from the saddle.

"My lord!" Éomer turned to see Aeofrith awkwardly holding Ellemir as he reined in both Gingernut and his own horse. Éomer quickly wheeled Firefoot around and rode back to them. He had been riding at the head of the column, leaving Ellemir in Aeofrith's care while he sent Darufin ahead to scout. She had seemed comfortable with the scouts, and Éomer had thought a slower pace would be more agreeable to Ellemir, so he had left them behind to ride towards the middle of the column while he joined the front of the column.

"What happened?" he asked Aeofrith as he rode up. Around them, other Riders began to pull their mounts to a stop to see what was wrong.

"I know not, my lord. She asked if we could rest…I should have noticed her fatigue sooner. My apologies, Éomer King."

"Blame not yourself, Aeofrith. Ellemir is in my charge, and as such, it was my duty to see to her wellbeing." He turned Firefoot, maneuvering the stallion to Gingernut's flank, as he reached out to relieve Aeofrith of Ellemir. He pulled her gently into his saddle, cradling her in his lap as her head lolled against his arm. "Ellemir," he murmured, shaking her gently in hopes of rousing her. She whimpered, but didn't stir, and Éomer knew with a sinking feeling that they would have to stop. "Set up camp—she can go no further this day."

Garulf relayed the command, and the order to set up camp quickly spread to the remaining riders of the éored. Éomer remained on his horse while around him, his men made quick work of pitching tents, gathering moss to burn, and starting the campfires. Éomer's tent was the first to be set up, and as soon as it was ready, Éomer laid Ellemir down gently on a pallet of furs inside. She didn't stir, and for a moment, he simply stood there and watched her sleep, asking himself once again what he was doing. _I should have taken her back to Minas Tirith, and been done with it. _His eagerness to return to Rohan had overrun his good judgment, and now he found himself traveling with a young woman who had no experience in riding long distances. This wasn't the first time that Éomer's stubbornness had gotten him into trouble. _Without doubt, it won't be the last, either,_ he thought, shaking his head ruefully. With one last look, he stepped outside, bracing himself against the growing chill in the air as he went to help with the rest of the preparations.

* * *

Darkness fell, and the men of Rohan soon settled down to sleep around the campfires as the chill of night descended. Inside Éomer's tent, Ellemir dreamed. 

_Ellemir rushed into the dining hall, her face pale and her eyes wide as she glanced around wildly. Her eyes fell on her father and brothers as they sat at the table for the midday meal. _

"_Boromir, you must come quickly!" she said, running towards him. As she reached him, she took hold of his forearm, pulling at him impatiently._

"_Girl, what is this foolishness?" Denethor asked with a sneer. Ellemir turned to meet her father's gaze, composing her features into a mask of indifference. _

"_It is nothing to concern yourself over, Father. I simply need Boromir to help me with one of the horses."_

"_And that is cause to interrupt our meal, a meal that you yourself should have been present at?"_

"_Yes, Father—it's very important," she said earnestly, giving her father a look of wide-eyed innocence. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't, but luckily for Ellemir, it worked this time._

"_Very well. Boromir, go with your sister."_

"_Yes, Father," Boromir said, coming to his feet with a sigh of resignation. He didn't see Ellemir give Faramir an apologetic look for leaving him alone with their father as he followed her into the corridor. "Honestly, Ellemir, couldn't you have gotten one of the stable hands to help you?" he asked with mild annoyance._

_Ellemir suddenly came to a halt and turned to face him, grabbing his arms above the elbows as she looked into his eyes. _

"_Brother, I lied to Father. You must take some of your men and ride to Osgiliath. You will be needed there this night."_

"_Ella, what is this you speak of?"_

"_Osgiliath will be attacked tonight, Boromir. Without you, the fort will fall to the enemy. You know as well as I that if Osgiliath falls, there will be nothing protecting the city from attack."_

"_Tell me all that you know," he said, looking down at her with all seriousness. He knew well enough by now to take Ellemir seriously, and the possibility of an attack on the river fortress was definite cause for alarm. _

"_The attack will come at the eastern end of the fortress, but it is only a ruse, for the main attack will occur at the center of the fortress. Place the greater part of your forces there, and the battle should be won." With a brisk nod, he kissed her cheek and ran toward the barracks to gather his men._

_Ellemir watched Boromir ride for Osgiliath at the front of a large column of Gondorian soldiers, and she fought down a rise of fear. _

"_Where is your brother going?" Ellemir turned to face her father as he walked up beside her. _

"_To Osgiliath, Father. There are matters there that he must tend to."_

"_Did you see something, my daughter?" he asked, gazing at her with calculating eyes._

"_An attack on Osgiliath." Though she had wished to avoid telling him, to lie would be folly now, because he would discover the truth eventually._

"_And you did not think it necessary to inform me?" he asked, his voice turning angry. _

"_I did not wish to worry you, Father," she lied. The truth of the matter was, she simply did not wish her father to know of her vision, for always it led to the dark orb in her father's tower. She shuddered as she thought of the glowing eye, quietly whispering of things to come. _

"_Come. We will look to the palantír for answers." She closed her eyes, despair welling up inside her as her father took her hand and led her away. Darkness was rising, and a shadow dwelled in her mind, drawing her closer and closer to the abyss._

Ellemir woke to darkness, and her heart began to pound in fear as she blindly looked around her. She cried out, and scrambled out of the furs that were draped over her, panic taking hold as she fumbled about in the dark. She stumbled out of the tent, and promptly fell as she tripped over a sleeping figure in the dark. She didn't stop, even as the figure grunted at the unexpected jar. She groped in the dark without thought of who she sought, only driven by fear. Tears ran down her face and she struggled to hold back her sobs as she continued to stumble over the sleeping Rohirrim until someone suddenly grabbed her arm.

"My lady, what is it? Are you ill?" At the familiar sound of Aeofrith's voice, Ellemir felt a sudden rush of relief and she hurled herself at him.

"Aeofrith!"

"My lady, what is wrong?"

"It's so dark," she whispered.

"What is it?" Another voice came out of the darkness, and Ellemir turned to see Éomer staring down at her with concern. Ellemir turned towards him, walking into his arms and he held her even as he wondered what was wrong. "Ellemir, tell me what ails you," he commanded softly. She pressed herself against him, as though he could shield her from the world, and Éomer could feel her trembling against him.

"There's no light," she whispered, her hands clenching his tunic tightly.

"Are you afraid of the dark?" he asked with a smile in his voice.

"Do not mock me, son of Éomund," she said, pulling away from him with her face filling with a quiet anger. "It was not always so, but until you have faced the darkness of the palantír as I have, perhaps you should not be so quick to scoff at that which you do not know." Éomer could see the pain in her eyes as she spoke and he stilled as he suddenly realized that she was right. In her own way, Ellemir had fought a war just as fiercely as any man of Rohan or Gondor, only hers was a matter of the spirit rather than a matter of strength of arms.

"You speak truth, Ellemir. I spoke rashly, and for that, I apologize."

"Can you please light a fire for me, Éomer?" she asked him, gazing up at him with pleading eyes. He looked down at her, his hand reaching up to push a strand of her hair behind her ear as his heart softened at the look in her eyes.

"Very well. It will be done. Aeofrith," he said, turning to the scout who still stood by patiently, "do as she wishes—light the fire. Come, Ellemir, I'll lead you back to the tent."

"No, I shall sleep outside."

"Ellemir, it is too cold for you out here. Now, come." Éomer was a man who gave orders, and expected those orders to be followed, so when Ellemir disappeared into the tent only to come back out with her arms full of furs and blankets, he was quite annoyed.

"What are you doing?"

"Well, I should think it obvious. I'm moving my bedding out here."

"Ellemir, I have already told you that it is too cold for you here, now go back inside."

"Do not speak to me as you would a dog, Éomer. I am not to be commanded like one of your men, and I will not sleep inside that darkened tent alone." With that, she turned her back on him resolutely and began to lay out her bedding beside the fire as Aeofrith, Darufin, Garulf, and several others looked on in amusement.

* * *

As cold as it was, Ella was determined not to give in, for her fear of the darkened tent was greater than her discomfort. She shivered and pulled her blanket tighter around her shoulders. Suddenly, a shadow loomed over her and a comforting weight settled over her as someone placed another blanket over her. She turned her head to see Darufin turning back to his bedroll without a sound and without a blanket. Her heart softened toward the silent man of Rohan as she snuggled into the warmth of the blankets. 

On his own bedroll beside her, Éomer watched Darufin return to his bedroll and took a moment to wonder what it was about Ellemir that had prompted such an action from the quiet loner. No one knew anything of the scout. Darufin had simply appeared one day, and had quickly proved his skills, eliciting an invitation to join the ranks of the Rohirrim. He had made it clear that he did not invite conversation, and most of the men steered clear of him. So it was with some surprise to Éomer that Darufin revealed a caring side by his actions towards Ellemir.

Éomer knew that Ellemir was unused to the cold, and it would seem that many of his men had realized it as well and took pity on her, for Aeofrith and Garulf soon followed Darufin's example, sacrificing their own blankets to keep Ellemir warm. _So much for waiting for the cold to send her back to the tent—my own men will see to it that that doesn't happen._ But somehow, having her close by his side was not as unappealing as Éomer had thought it would be. As he relaxed into sleep, he relished the thought of having her close, even though he told himself that nothing good could come of it.

* * *

"I must ride for Rohan," Faramir said, staring bleakly at Ellemir's empty room. "I should have known she would do this. I knew she was upset, but I didn't think she would go off on her own, and now it appears as though I am paying for my oversight. 

"Faramir, why must you blame yourself? This was no fault of your own—Ellemir is her own person, and she makes her own decisions," Éowyn pointed out, placing a comforting hand on his arm.

"You don't understand," he said with a shake of his head. "I have to look after her—there's no one else." He turned on his heel, and left the room with a hasty stride.

"Faramir, wait!" Éowyn hurried to catch up to him as he swiftly headed for the stables. She caught up with him and grabbed his arm, spinning him around so that he faced her.

"How do you even know that's where she has gone? She could have gone anywhere. Why would she go to Rohan?"

"Because she was worried for your brother, and because she has far too much of Boromir's recklessness in her for her to have gone elsewhere. It's just like when we were children—she would inevitably find trouble, and I was left to get her out of it. Boromir was the same way, and he died for it. I won't let the same thing happen to my sister."

"Then I'm going with you," Éowyn said resolutely.

"Éowyn, I think you should remain here and wait for my return."

"Do you honestly think me content to be left behind? I know the way to Rohan much better than you do, and I think it prudent for at least one of us to know the path."

"But you're still recovering…"

"So are you. Faramir, I will not be left behind again. Not by you, not by anyone. So perhaps you should use your energies to find your sister rather than argue with me senselessly."

She smiled up at him prettily when she said it, and Faramir was forced to concede by both the wisdom of her words, and the beauty of her smile. He mounted up, issuing a command to a company of his men to ride south while he took the remaining company north.

"Why would she go that way? Rohan is to the north," Éowyn asked as she watched them ride south.

"Yes, well you and I know that, but I'm not sure that my sister does." With a swift kick, he sent his horse into a fast gallop, and Éowyn and the rest followed. She could only hope that Ellemir had had enough foresight to head north.

* * *

The next morning, Éomer woke to an unfamiliar warmth pressed against his uninjured side, and he looked down to see Ellemir snuggled up against him, half of her accumulated heap of blankets draped over him. _That would explain the uncomfortable heat, _Éomer thought with a wry lift of his eyebrow as he glanced down at her. He was used to the outdoors, having slept outdoors since childhood, and he had long grown accustomed to the cold brought on by the fall of darkness. Ellemir, however, was not the thick-skinned warrior that Éomer was, and must have unconsciously sought out the nearest source of heat and found it in the form of Éomer. 

Garulf snickered as he watched Éomer trying to figure out how to slide away from Ellemir without waking her, and he started to chuckle until Éomer turned an angry glare at him.

"I do not find this amusing, Garulf. Now make yourself useful and come help me." Knowing that Éomer was quite irritable in the early morning hours, Garulf didn't take offense to Éomer's words, but came forward with a smile. He lifted the still sleeping Ellemir, allowing Éomer to climb to his feet with a groan.

"I don't think she'll be able to stay in the saddle today, my lord. She's far too exhausted to make it far."

"She'll ride with me," Éomer told him decisively.

"Are you sure that's wise, my lord? Your wound…" Garulf trailed off at the harsh look that Éomer gave him, and simply laid Ellemir gently back on the pallet of furs. "I'll go ready your horse, my lord."

Éomer watched Garulf stride away before he turned back to look at Ellemir. He still didn't know what had prompted him to inform Garulf that Ellemir would ride with him. It would certainly not be comfortable for him, but he couldn't bring himself to rescind the offer. Something about Ellemir brought out every protective instinct within him, and he didn't trust anyone else with her. _Certainly not Aeofrith,_ he thought darkly. The scout was entirely too friendly with the Steward's sister in Éomer's opinion, and he wasn't too keen on the idea of her riding with the other man. It didn't occur to him to question why he was so against the idea.

Ellemir slept until Garulf picked her up in order to hand her up to Éomer who was already in the saddle. She blinked up at him sleepily and slowly began to smile.

"I told you that you would let me ride him one day," she said, giving Firefoot a fond pat on the neck as she glanced back at Éomer over her shoulder.

"If you plan to gloat all day, it's going to be a long journey," he told her with a lift of his eyebrow.

"Come, Éomer, you take yourself far too seriously. You need someone like me to keep you from being an insufferable bore," she said in a teasing voice. His lips quirked as he suppressed a smile and shook his head.

"Why do I get the feeling that you are going to give me no peace?"

"I really couldn't say," she replied as she settled back against him, her back resting against his chest as she relaxed into the easy gait of Firefoot's step. Éomer's arms tightened around her, and he felt a strange satisfaction well up at the feel of her in his arms. _Perhaps the journey will not be so long after all. Perhaps it will not be long enough._

* * *

Hope you all enjoyed…sorry for the long wait! Please read and review for me! 

**ModestySparrow9:** Yeah, Ella did sort of mirror Hummingbird a bit, didn't she? Though I think she's a bit vainer than Hummingbird. Thanks for the compliment about the names—I like trying to come up with cool names for characters. Oh, and thanks for the offer to help with the horse information—I'll definitely keep you in mind!

**daydreamer8301:** I'm glad you liked the last chapter—hope you like this one, too! I wasn't as satisfied with this one as I was with the others, but I couldn't just leave everyone hanging…I guess this chapter is more of a bridge to future chapters more than anything else. I did like the flashback scene, but the rest of it, I'm not so sure about, so let me know what you think, okay?

**wondereye:** Yeah, I think Ella summed up what you were thinking when she told Éomer that he would be an insufferable bore without her…she's going to be the factor that brings more depth to him. I see him as a man who is typical of a warrior-race, where he knows little beyond horses and warfare. Hopefully, I'll be able to give him the depth that Ella has. Let me know what you think!


	7. Chapter 7: A Bitter Reminiscence

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

A/N: If anyone is getting tired of flashbacks, then this probably isn't the story for you—I've decided to use one in every chapter. Just wanted to give everyone fair warning.

Chapter 7—A Bitter Reminiscence

Ellemir's eyes settled on the fire that burned before her, her gaze unfocused as she let her mind wander peacefully. She didn't know how long she remained that way, for she paid no mind to the bustling of the men as they prepared the camp for the night. It wasn't until a deep voice broke into her concentration that she pulled her eyes away from the alluring glow of the fire.

"Lady Ellemir, can you sing?" She looked up to see one of the older of Éomer's Riders gazing at her questioningly. Others, hearing the question looked up expectantly, their eyes unquestionably hopeful. She shook her head regretfully, an apologetic look on her face.

"I'm afraid not. My brother used to say that I couldn't carry a tune in a pail, which is to say, I'm a horrible singer really."

"Surely not," the man replied with a teasing smile.

"Yes. To put it bluntly, sir, I'm quite tone deaf. My brother Faramir is the one who can sing—he always did have such a lovely voice, and I so envied him when I was a child. My oldest brother could sing as well, but he didn't care much for it, and he was not so good as Faramir. But as for me, my father despaired of my singing, for he so wished that I could sing as well as my mother." She trailed off as she began to think back on the sadness that her lack of ability had caused her…

_Boromir tried not to wince, even as Ella's discordant singing echoed off the white marble walls of the throne room. _She does make for an amusing image, though_, he thought, gazing at his sister where she stood on the seat of the throne, singing at the top of her lungs._

"_Is she going to stop soon, do you suppose?" Faramir murmured questioningly, looking up at his older brother with hopeful eyes._

"_Probably not. But count yourself lucky, Faramir—at least we can leave if it becomes too painful for us. The guards are not so fortunate." The thought of the Gondorian Honor Guard being brought to their knees by a mere slip of a girl put a smile on Faramir's face and he giggled._

"_Well they certainly don't look very happy, do they?" he responded, giving his elder brother a smile._

"_Faramir, they're the Gondorian Honor Guard—they're not known for looking happy," Boromir said wryly._

"_Ellemir!" At their father's harsh voice, Ella's singing ceased and all three siblings look up, Faramir unconsciously edging closer to his brother, hoping that Boromir's larger frame would serve to hide him from their father's eyes. "Ellemir, come down from there at once!"_

"_Papa, did you hear me singing?" she asked excitedly, her eyes alight with happiness._

"_Ellemir, that was hardly singing. Now, there are matters that demand my attention, and I cannot attend to those matters with all the noise you're making. And I don't want you playing in the throne room, Ellemir, I've told you once before. I won't have it, do you understand?"_

"_Yes, Papa," she whispered, her face falling as she watched her father sweep out of the room with a heavy heart. The guards shared a relieved look, but sobered upon hearing Ellemir's telltale sniffle. Her eyes filled with tears and she ran from the room, sobbing pitifully._

"_Father always upsets her," Faramir said softly, shaking his head ruefully. "We should go after her."_

"_You go after her, Faramir—you're better at that sort of thing than I," Boromir murmured. He'd always been uncomfortable with the softer emotions, and his sister's tears were enough to completely undo him. Without argument, Faramir went in search of Ellemir, finding her exactly where he'd thought she would be. He grasped the branches of the tree she was perched in and climbed up beside her. He put his arm around her, feeling her shoulders shake as she cried onto his shoulder, wetting the front of his tunic. But Faramir didn't mind, for if crying on him made Ella feel better, then it was well worth it. _Besides, tunics wash, and I can always put on another.

_At fourteen, Faramir was easily capable of balancing practicality with sensitivity, and he was never at a loss when it came to comforting his sister. The two of them were actually quite alike, both possessing a sensitivity that made them ideal companions, completely attuned to one another. And the nature of their relationship with their father allowed them a closeness that Boromir couldn't achieve. Though they loved their older brother, he would never fully understand them, loved as he was by their father. _

"_Faramir, why is Papa so unkind?" Ellemir asked, her chin trembling as she gazed up at Faramir with bewildered eyes._

"_Boromir says its because we remind him so much of Mother," Faramir replied, looking down uncomfortably. "He says that it pains Father to look on us."_

"_But you don't think so?" she asked, sensing something in his voice that belied his words._

"_I don't know. Papa was never the same after she died, you know…he played a game with me once, did you know that?" he asked, changing the subject to distract her. _

"_Really?"_

"_Yes. It was a long time ago—Mother was still alive…you were crying, I remember, and Mother was seeing to you. Boromir was off somewhere, and there was no one to watch after me. While Mother was caring for you, Father came and played with me." He fell silent as he thought back on that time so long ago. It was one of his first memories, and he cherished it like no other. _

"_Did he play with you again?"Ellemir asked, eager to hear of her brother's time with their father._

"_No. Mother fell ill not long after, and things were different then." They were quiet for a time after that, each lost in their own thoughts as they sat side by side._

"_Is my singing really that bad, Faramir?" Ellemir asked suddenly, her quiet voice breaking the silence._

"_Well…maybe with a little practice," he said slowly, "perhaps you could get better." Ellemir sighed, and shook her head. _

"_It's alright, brother, you don't have to tell an untruth." She gave him a small smile and he returned it before giving her a playful nudge. _

"_Come on, Ella. I'll race you to the archives—we'll find something to read," he said, edging toward the trunk of the tree. _

"_Can we read a story about Rohan?" she asked eagerly, her eyes lighting up as she followed him down._

"_But you've already read them all, Ella."_

"_I know, but I like them. Please, Faramir," she pleaded. Laughing, he conceded, and together they raced for the archives to find a tale to read._

"Perhaps I could tell you a story," Ellemir said suddenly, the idea suddenly coming to her as the memory faded. The Riders sitting around the fire with her looked up, somewhat startled at her words, for she'd appeared to be lost in thought for quite some time. The elder who'd spoken earlier came to sit beside her, nodding thoughtfully.

"Very well, my lady. We would be honored to hear your tale."

So it was that when Éomer reached the fire, he found his men captivated by Ellemir's tale, her engaging way of telling the story serving to keep them intrigued even as the cadence of her voice rose and fell. He quickly recognized the tale she was recounting, for it was none other than the legend of Fram and his feud with the Dwarves, one of the lesser known tales of Rohan, and his eyes widened with surprise. Seeing their king standing among them, several warriors slid over to make room for him at the fireside, and Éomer sat down on the grass beside them, not wishing to interrupt. And so it was that dusk fell, with fireside tales of past heroes, of valiant deaths, of joy, and of love.

* * *

The night was still and quiet, a sea of stars blanketing the sky, and no one stirred, except for the scouts who kept watch. Aeofrith kicked at the dirt with the toe of one boot, bored by the endless task of keeping watch. He spared an ugly look for Darufin, who stood silently nearby, annoyed that the other scout seemed unbothered by the stillness. He cast a look back at Ellemir, smiling as he watched her unconsciously move closer to Éomer. Within a few moments, she was snuggled up against him, still sound asleep. 

Éomer jerked awake, startled by the sudden warmth cuddled against him. He looked down, not surprised to see Ellemir next to him. He could barely see her because of the blankets draped over her, and only the crown of her head was visible. He caught Aeofrith looking at him, and the two men shared a look before Éomer rolled onto his side and curled his body protectively around Ellemir, his eyes closing once more.

Aeofrith could well understand Éomer's protectiveness when it came to Ellemir—_she is a treasure well worth guarding. _Silence settled among them once more, and the stars above them slowly circled the heavens. Caught up in the solitude and peacefulness of the night, Aeofrith started when he felt a light touch on his shoulder and he turned to see Darufin standing beside him.

"I hate it when you do that. I vow, I will never understand how it is that you move without a sound." He paused when he saw Darufin's eyes looking past him and he frowned. "What is it?"

"Something is amiss," Darufin said cryptically. He walked past Aeofrith, missing the scowl that the other scout sent his way.

"You sound like a damned elf, always with your riddles. Why can't you ever speak plainly?"

Suddenly, a piercing scream rent the air, and all over the camp men shot up from their bedrolls, reaching for their swords as they looked frantically for the source of the cry.

"The stables!" Ellemir screamed. "See to the stables—they'll burn!" Eyes turned to Ellemir as Éomer held her close, trying to wake her. The warriors looked at one another in confusion as Ellemir cried out in Rohirric.

"Ellemir." _How is it she speaks in Rohirric_, Éomer thought as he struggled to wake her. _She doesn't know our speech…_He had no more time to think on it, for at that moment, Ellemir jerked awake in his arms, gripping his tunic with cold, stiff fingers.

"Éomer, we must ride for Rohan, quickly," she said frantically, gazing at him with desperate eyes as the men gathered around them.

"What ails you?" he asked, looking at her as though she were mad.

"Éomer, the horses—they'll all be killed! Hurry!" She pushed him away and climbed unsteadily to her feet, gathering blankets and cloaks in her arms as the men looked on in confusion. Éomer stood and followed, catching her arm and pulling her to a stop.

"Ellemir, it was a dream and nothing more," he said, his tone patronizing as he stared down at her. She whirled around and dumped everything at his feet, anger and annoyance at war in her gaze.

"Éomer, if you will not help me, then I'll find someone who will," she said, jerking her arm out of his grasp.

"You forget who is king here, Ellemir. If I so order it, none of these men will follow you." Her eyes darkened with fury at his words and she picked up a branch of firewood and hurled it at him with a cry of outrage. _It appears as though the lady has been hiding a temper fiery enough to match her hair, _Éomer thought as he was forced to dodge in order to avoid being hit.

"Then I shall go alone," she said furiously, shoving her way past the men of Rohan who looked on. "I vow I am weary of doing nothing while others fail to act. If you will not listen, then it is for me to do something."

"And what will you do if I order the men to stop you?" Éomer asked, following.

"If you do so, you had best be prepared to wound me, for nothing short of that will stop me," she said defiantly.

"Do you think to fight us?" he asked with laughter in his voice.

"You tempt me sorely, Éomer , but I haven't the time for it." She spotted Aeofrith nearby and changed direction, ignoring Éomer completely.

"Aeofrith, could you saddle my horse for me, please?"

"Yes, my lady," Aeofrith answered, turning to lead the way without so much as a glance at his king. Éomer followed, feeling his temper begin to fray. _It is time that I put an end to this disobedience. _

"Ellemir, it is not yet dawn. We will ride when the sun is upon us and no sooner," he said sternly.

"Very well," she said, and he almost stumbled into her when she came to a sudden stop before him. He looked at her suspiciously wondering why she'd suddenly changed her mind. Aeofrith looked on in amusement, as he watched the wariness come over Éomer's face.

"Come, I shall walk you back to your bedroll," Éomer told her, starting forward.

"No, you shall not. Aeofrith shall," she informed him coldly, and with that, she took Aeofrith's arm, daring Éomer with a look to argue. Feeling his head begin to ache as he struggled to hold onto his temper, Éomer just nodded, not trusting himself enough to speak. _Impossible woman_, he thought angrily.

As Ellemir slowly followed Éomer, her hand tucked firmly into the crook of Aeofrith's arm, she hung back, forcing Aeofrith to slow as well.

"Aeofrith, as soon as I lay down, I need you to return and saddle my horse for me," she murmured, casting a cautious look at Éomer to ensure that he couldn't hear her.

"My lady, you can't still intend to go," he said incredulously, looking at her with startled eyes.

"Aeofrith, I must. Éomer will not listen to me," she whispered, her eyes pleading with him to understand.

"But, you can't ride to Rohan alone—the way is dangerous."

"But I won't be alone, will I?" she said, staring at him pointedly.

"You ask me to disobey my king, my lady."

"In truth, I do not, for I never heard him forbid you to accompany me. Did you?"

"Not expressly," he said with hesitation.

"Very well then," she said with a smile. He left her at the mound of blankets that some of the men had gathered back together for her, smiling as he watched her pointedly turn away from Éomer, giving him her back as everyone settled back down. Aeofrith hurried away as fast as he could without seeming too conspicuous, knowing that time was short. _Sleep will come quickly to Éomer King, for his wound tires him, and then Lady Ellemir will come. I haven't much time. _

He had just finished saddling their horses when Ellemir hurried up to him, fastening a cloak around her shoulders. He helped her mount, and as she slid into the saddle, she looked down at him sympathetically. 

"Aeofrith, if you do not wish to go, I will understand," she said softly. "Your obligations to your king are important to you, as they should be."

"Yes, but I cannot let you go alone, my lady. I will ride with you." He hurriedly mounted, and together, the two of them rode for Rohan, leaving the camp behind.

From nearby shadows, Darufin watched with veiled eyes, his expression hooded, before he turned and began to make his rounds around the camp's perimeter once more.

"My lord, you must wake." Éomer groaned and slowly opened his eyes, throwing his arm up over his face as the glare of sunlight hit him squarely in the face. Squinting against the harsh light, he looked up to see Garulf crouching beside him with worried eyes.

"What is it, Garulf?"

"Trouble, my lord. Lady Ellemir is missing." Éomer sat up quickly, paying no heed to his still-healing wound.

"Order the men to scour the camp—mayhap she's only wandering, but we must be certain."

"It won't do you any good," a quiet voice broke in. "She's not here." Éomer looked up to see Darufin standing on the far side of the fire with a closed expression.

"What mean you?"

"She rode out well before the rising of the sun, Éomer King," Darufin said.

"You saw this?" Darufin nodded in lieu of answering aloud, and a dark, forbidding look came over Éomer's face.

"And you did nothing?"

"She was in no danger, and if I am not mistaken, she is no captive here. I saw no need to stop her."

"No danger!" Éomer's fragile hold on his temper snapped, and he grabbed the scout by the front of his tunic and jerked him forward. "She has no riding skills to speak of, nor can she fight, and you think her in no danger when she rides off alone in darkness?"

"I did not say she was alone, Éomer King," Darufin said calmly, unbothered by Éomer's hold on him.

"Who would be so foolish as to defy me?" Éomer asked, his eyes flashing with hot fury.

"You never forbade us to go with her."

"Who was it?" Éomer growled, Darufin's cool logic insufficient to stand against Éomer's anger.

"I believe it was Aeofrith, my lord," Garulf broke in hesitantly when Darufin would not answer. "He has not been seen this morning either."

"He will pay dearly for his defiance," Éomer said with a deceptive softness in his voice. "Saddle the horses! We ride now!" he yelled. _I will deal with Aeofrith after we find Ellemir. For find her, we must._ He hated to think of what could happen if they didn't.

* * *

"My lady, I hope you do not think me too bold, but may I ask what it was that frightened you in your sleep?" Aeofrith asked cautiously as they slowed to a canter to allow the horses to rest a bit from their gallop. 

"It is not too bold of you to ask, Aeofrith, but I fear to speak of it. I fear that if I give voice to what I saw, it may come true."

"Have you found it always to be thus?"

"No, not always. But sometimes."

"But perhaps, my lady, speaking of it may alleviate your fears. Mayhap I could help in some way."

"No, Aeofrith—all I know is that we must find the place I saw in my dream before it is too late."

"This place you saw, what was it like?"

"It is a great wooden stronghold that rests upon a hill overlooking a city. Do you know of it?"

"My lady, this place you speak of is Edoras. It is the seat of power in Rohan."

"Then it is Éomer's home?"

"Yes, my lady."

"Then we must not tarry. Darkness moves across the land, Aeofrith, and if we do not hurry, Edoras and all that is Rohan will be lost."

* * *

Faramir crouched on the ground, intently studying the land for any signs of his sister's horse or the passing Rohirrim. 

"Well, what do you see?" Éowyn asked as she and the accompanying guards looked on.

"Ella's horse met up with the mounts of the Rohirrim, but I see no signs of Ella herself. We can only hope that she is with them."

"Well if her horse is with them, then why would Ellemir not be with them as well?" she reasoned.

"She is not the rider you are, Éowyn," Faramir said quietly as he remounted and settled into his saddle once more.

"I'm certain she is with them, Faramir, safe under my brother's watchful gaze. Think you he would let her come to harm?" The worry Faramir felt was unmistakable in his eyes, and he turned to look at her.

"Yes, well we have no way of knowing that she is with them for certain. And so we shall continue to pursue them. I will not lose my sister through my own carelessness, Éowyn! Not like I lost Boromir," he said vehemently.

"But, Faramir, how are you to blame for your brother's death? You were miles away," Éowyn pointed out, her eyes confused as she struggled to understand Faramir's reasoning.

"Precisely. I should have been there in his stead."

"You had no way of knowing what would happen, no way of knowing that your brother would meet his end."

"Yes, I did! Ellemir tried to warn us, but Boromir wouldn't hear of it, and I did not try hard enough to convince him otherwise."

"Then the fault, if there is any, was his own, Faramir, not your own," she said gently.

"Do not speak of him so! My brother was a good and noble man, and I will not have you dishonor him!"

"Faramir, it was not my intention to dishonor your brother," she said apologetically. "I only sought to show to you that you are not responsible for his death."

"We will not speak of it again," Faramir said softly, effectively cutting off any further argument. Éowyn fell silent, intuitively knowing that in his grief, he would not heed her words. Neither Éowyn nor the guards spoke, for Faramir's pain was apparent in his eyes, a deep well of grief that left him with a haunted expression. Though Faramir held himself tall and proud in the saddle, the stiff set of his shoulders belied the anguish he felt.

His throat tight, he struggled to push away thoughts of his elder brother. His sorrow had been long delayed, for the war had left him no time to think on his loss. But now…now he felt the pressing weight of guilt and sadness, and it threatened to overwhelm him. _I should have tried harder to convince Father to let me go to Rivendell. I should not have let Boromir go. _

"You were always the stronger of us, Boromir," Faramir whispered to the wind. "It should have been me that died." He could still remember that day, the day that Boromir had left for the city of Elrond. He would never forget it, because it was the last time he would ever see his brother alive…

"_Boromir, you're needed here. The men look to you for guidance, and we need them confident if we are to hold Osgiliath."_

"_My brother, I leave Osgiliath in your hands. The men will look to you while I am gone, and I have faith in you. I won't be gone long."_

"_Couldn't you speak with Father, Boromir? If you could only explain to him that I should go instead…Something tells me that ill tidings will go with you if you journey to Rivendell, brother, and I fear for you. It should be me."_

"_Faramir, Father has made up his mind. There is no changing it—you know this. I would only be wasting my breath to argue with him. Could you find Ella, and tell her I wish to tell her goodbye before I leave?" he asked, abruptly changing the subject. "I need to collect my things for the journey, and I haven't the time to search for her."_

_Faramir longed to argue with his brother, but there was a pleading in Boromir's eyes that stayed him. Faramir sighed and gave in to Boromir's wish to speak of it no more._

"_I'll see if I can find her."_

"How strange it is that such a short moment in time can be of such great import," Faramir murmured softly._ I should not have given in so easily,_ he thought, mentally berating himself for his weakness.

"Faramir," Éowyn began, but he cut her off, not wishing to speak of his brother, his grief, or his pain.

"Come, we must hurry if we are to catch up with them," he said, spurring his horse to outpace her, leaving her to stare after him sadly.

* * *

A/N: Ok, guys, so let me know what you think about this one, okay? It seems that the further I go with this story, the less I'm sure of it—is it getting stupid? Let me know, please. Also, the tale that Ellemir was telling is not mine--itis Tolkien's, found in the Appendix of Lord of the Rings. 

**ModestySparrow9:** Ella didn't tell Faramir because she thought less of him; it's just her vision placed more importance on Boromir's presence. Had she seen Faramir attached to that vision, she would have told him instead. Thanks for the compliments, M.

**mimishell:** I'm glad you find Ella amusing—she is a bit of a smart ass, isn't she? Not as bad as Dayn is, but she's got just enough of it to be funny. I imagine this chapter added to your hate vibe for Denethor—how did you like it? Oh, and let me know how you liked the bit with Faramir and Éowyn. I put those scenes in just for you, because if it weren't for you, I probably wouldn't bother with them (no offense—they're just not my favorites). Anways, let me know what you think--you know me, anything for a review, right?

**Amber Leah:** Yay, a new fan! Thanks so much for sending me such a great review—I really got a laugh out of reading it! I'm glad you like my portrayal of Éomer. He and Boromir are my favorite characters, but I have a special fondness for Éomer. It means a lot to me that you think my Éomer is in-character. I really don't want to change the way he was meant to be. Anyways, I hope you'll keep reviewing for me, because I so appreciate hearing from people!

**daydreamer8301:** Yeah, Éomer is definitely starting to get the warm fuzzies for Ella. He just doesn't know it, yet. Anyways, thanks for reviewing, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	8. Chapter 8: The Fires of Rohan

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

A/N: The same as before—I haven't been using a beta lately, because I want to get my chapters up faster, so if you notice a mistake, I'm apologizing ahead of time.

Chapter 8: The Fires of Rohan

"They ride for Edoras, Éomer King." Éomer looked down at Darufin where he crouched on the ground examining a set of hoof prints in the grass. "From the tracks here, I would say they are riding at a swift pace. They must not want us to catch up," the scout finished dryly.

"No doubt Ellemir has talked Aeofrith into taking her seriously. They ride for Edoras now, and we cannot tarry if we are to overcome them," Éomer replied as he swiftly swung himself into the saddle once more.

"Éomer, are you so certain we shouldn't have listened to her?" Garulf asked softly. The two men rode abreast of each other, slightly ahead of the other riders, and Garulf was glad for the small modicum of privacy as he questioned his king.

"We have no reason to believe that anything is amiss in Edoras, Garulf," Éomer said sternly.

It wasn't long however before Éomer began to rethink his words. Smoke rose on the horizon from the direction of Edoras, and Éomer's heart caught at the sight. Smoke was never a good sign—fire spread quickly on the plains, and a swift breeze could bring disaster upon them all.

"Fire looms before us! Ride now, for Edoras!" he yelled, pushing Firefoot into a swift gallop as fear filled him, for Edoras and for Ella. He pushed his fear down, focusing instead on his anger at the young scout who violated his orders. _Surely Aeofrith knows better than to take Ellemir toward the fire. But then, he did agree to accompany her in the first place. My confidence in him wanes, and when next I see him, he will rue the moment he defied me. _

Garulf followed closely behind Éomer, the pounding of hundreds of hoof beats striking the earth coinciding with the pounding in his heart as he watched the thick black smoke rise into the air. He couldn't help but recall the lady Ellemir's ominous words as she had screamed of fire in her sleep. Was it possible that Ellemir had known what was to come? _Yes, somehow, she knew of this danger._

Riding at Éomer's side, Garulf could see the worry on his king's face, and he wondered just how much Éomer was coming to care for the young woman from Gondor, so different from the women of Rohan. She was a small woman, seemingly fragile upon first glance, but whose eyes spoke of an inner strength. _Something tells me that she is not so weak as she appears. We shall see._

* * *

Faramir came awake gasping for air, feeling as though the breath was being stolen from his lungs. The crisp night air cooled the sweat on his face, causing him to shiver as he looked around for the cause of his alarm. But all was still and silent, and worry creased his brow as he gazed at the sleeping forms around him. His eyes fell upon Éowyn's figure lying still beside him, but after a moment he knew that she was not the source of his misgiving. 

He shifted his gaze to the horizon, and felt a sudden wave of dread fill him, causing his breath to catch in his throat. _There. The threat comes from there._ He remained there for some time, his eyes on the distant horizon, hoping for some clue as to what exactly was troubling him, but nothing was forthcoming, and he knew with a sinking feeling that they were running out of time.

Éowyn's eyes opened as someone shook her shoulder, rousing her from a deep sleep, and she looked up to see Faramir staring down at her with a worried expression.

"Faramir, what is it?"

"Something is wrong. We have to hurry."

"I don't understand, Faramir. Has something happened?"

"Yes, no…I don't know. I don't think it's happened yet, but there's no time to waste."

"Faramir, what is this you speak of?" Éowyn asked, with not a small amount of confusion evident in her voice.

"I can't explain it, Éowyn," he said quietly, "but I know in my heart that something is going to happen, something that we have to stop. My gift of foresight it not what my sister's is, but there are times when I know things with a certainty that cannot be put into words. All I can say is that we need to go, now," he finished.

And Éowyn knew somehow that he was telling the truth. It was nothing in his words, but rather his utter conviction that convinced her of the honesty of his words. Without further argument, she allowed him to pull her to her feet, and together they rode for Edoras, Faramir's men right behind them.

Before the sun rose, they could see the smoke rising in the distance.

"Faramir, it's fire! In Edoras!" Éowyn cried, her voice filled with fear.

"Éowyn, the fire is not the true danger—it is merely a diversion. One that will work all too well, I'm afraid."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not certain. Just a feeling I have."

"If fire is not the threat, then what is?" she asked in exasperation.

"I think a new enemy will soon reveal itself."

"But…" she began, but he cut her off.

"I'm sorry, but there is nothing more I can tell you. Know only this—your brother must be warned, for when this enemy reveals itself, Rohan will be in great peril." Faramir turned his eyes away from the worry in Éowyn's face, and looked toward Edoras, where something told him that trouble was already waiting.

* * *

"Aeofrith, let me ride with you—we must hurry!" Ellemir called frantically as they both watched the billowing smoke climb higher and higher into the sky. He reined in long enough to pull her into the saddle behind him before urging the horse back into a gallop, leaving Gingernut to follow on her own. 

They rode hard, and Ella could feel the horse's chest heaving as he fought to maintain the frantic pace. When they reached Edoras, they were met with the sight of houses ablaze, and panicked villagers struggling to get the fires put out. Unfortunately, for every fire they put out, another rose in its stead, and panic was beginning to spread as quickly as the fire.

"Aeofrith, you must get them organized! They will listen to you!" Ellemir called as she slid off his horse. Empowered by her words, Aeofrith immediately took charge, rallying the villagers and ordering them to go where they were needed most. He didn't notice when Ellemir ran off in the opposite direction, her reddish-brown hair flashing in the sun as she hurried for the stables.

She couldn't say why it was so important that she reach the stables, especially in light of all the homes that were on fire, but she felt driven to see to the horses. Aeofrith would take care of the people, she knew. _Éomer loves his horses—he would mourn if something were to happen to them._ In the back of her mind, Ellemir knew that to go after the horses alone was folly, but she didn't see an alternative. Everyone else was busy taking care of their homes, working to see that the flames spread no further.

She charged into the first stable, and smoke immediately filled her lungs as she inhaled, wracking her small frame with wrenching coughs. She could barely see through the thick haze, but she could hear the panicked horses whinnying in alarm as they frantically reared in the confines of their stalls. She placed her hand to the wall, dropping to the floor to avoid the worst of the smoke, and slowly began to make her way toward the stalls. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, but she fought the fear, unwilling to stand by and let the horses die. _Someone has to free the horses, or surely they will all burn. There is no one else, only I, and I must do this,_ she told herself firmly, trying to bolster her confidence despite her fear. Resolve filled her, crowding out the fear, and she pushed on, blindly searching for the lock of a stall despite the tears streaming from her stinging eyes.

She almost cried with relief when she found the first stall, her fingers fumbling with the latch before she finally succeeded in opening the door. She threw herself backwards as the horse charged out of the stall and ran for daylight. Ellemir rushed for the next stall as soon as the horse was safely past her, not wanting to waste precious time.

It got easier with each door she opened, but she was quickly tiring, the smoke sapping her strength, and dizziness beginning to assail her. Because horses were the very livelihood of Rohan, the king's stables were extensive, and Ellemir found herself distantly wondering if she was ever going to reach the last stall. Finally, her hand reached the far wall, and released the last horse, and she leaned weakly against the stall as the horse galloped out of the stables. She knew she couldn't remain where she was, but she just couldn't bring herself to stand. _I'm so tired…I'll rest here, only for a moment,_ she promised herself.

She could feel her body slipping toward the floor, and she barely caught herself from slumping over completely. The roof above her was beginning to yield under the onslaught of fire, and Ellemir looked up with frightened, burning eyes.

"Ellemir!" The voice was almost lost in the roar of fire, but her head went up, recognizing it instantly for Éomer's.

"Éomer," she called out, her own voice lost to the wrenching coughs that overcame her. She almost thought she'd imagined it, when suddenly out of the smoke, a familiar figure loomed over her, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her up against a firm chest.

Ellemir clung to Éomer as he led the way outside, to fresh air. Friendly hands grabbed them as they escaped from the stable, steadying them as they stumbled out. A safe distance away, Ellemir was lowered safely to the ground, and she lifted a shaky hand to her heart, her chest burning from the smoke that had filled her lungs.

"Éomer, the other horses," she began, trying to speak past the coughing that assailed her.

"It's alright, my lady, others are seeing to the horses now," Garulf said comfortingly, as Éomer bent over, his hands on his knees as he tried to clear his throat of the smoke he'd inhaled coming in after her.

Éomer lifted his head to look at her, and the strangest feeling slowly came over him as his eyes beheld her bedraggled appearance. Her face was streaked with soot, her dress torn and dirty, and her hair falling in limp tangles around her face, but to Éomer, she had never looked so beautiful. With Garulf's help, she stood and staggered over to Éomer. He straightened as she reached him, and her arms wrapped around him. His own arms came up to surround her, and warmth welled up inside him as he held her close.

"While I am grateful to you for saving the horses, you should have listened to me. I would not see you hurt, Ellemir," Éomer said gruffly.

An answering warmth filled her as she smiled up at him, and though he didn't say it, she understood the sentiment behind him words. He cared for her just as she cared for him, had always cared for him. She reached a finger up to wipe a smear of soot from his forehead with a gentle smile.

"I'm glad you came for me. I knew you would," she said, and he was struck by the trust he saw in her gaze as she looked up at him.

"Another one of your visions told you this?"

"You could say that," she answered, smiling enigmatically up at him. _It is a partial truth,_ she rationalized, for in many of her visions she had seen herself with Éomer at a much older age, _which proves that he would not have left me_. But the real truth was that she simply knew deep in her heart that Éomer would come for her, that he would let no harm come to her.

"Listen to me, Ellemir," Éomer said sternly, breaking her chain of thought, "I want you to stay with Garulf until I come back. We have to round up the horses before they're lost to us. Promise me, Ellemir."

"Very well," she replied, too tired to argue with him. As Garulf led her away from the chaos that still gripped Edoras, she looked back, her eyes resting lovingly on Éomer for just a moment before she turned back, not noticing the way his eyes followed her.

"Garulf," she began softly as she gripped the older warrior's arm for support, "your king does not know it yet, but he will love me one day."

"My lady, your gift of foresight has proven reliable, and though I know little of love, I believe you. In fact, I'd say he already does."

"You've never been in love, Garulf?"

"No, my lady, I can't say as I have. But we've been at war for a long time, and there was no time for such things as love." His words swept over her, and suddenly she recalled with vivid clarity, a long ago discussion of love. She'd been sixteen…

"_Boromir, have you ever been in love?" she asked, her head propped on her hand as she stared up at him from where she was sprawled across his bed watching him polish his sword._

"_What folly you speak," Boromir replied with an amused shake of his head._

"_Tis not folly, Boromir," she chided softly. "So have you?" _

"_Sister, such a thing is nothing but foolishness, and you would do well to put such nonsense out of your head."_

"_Well I suppose that answers my question. Love is not nonsense or foolishness, and I only hope that someday you come to understand."_

"_And what do you know of love, little sister?" he asked, giving his sixteen-year-old sister a patronizing look._

"_Much more than you, it would seem, brother of mine," she replied._

"_And what man has dared teach you of love?" he asked, going still at the thought of his sister with a man._

"_You know the answer to that."_

"_Do I?" he countered with narrowed eyes._

"_I have spoken of him many times," she continued, her eyes alight with mirth as she watched her older brother stiffen with affront._

"_Ah, you mean your man of Rohan," he said, catching on to the joke, "the one you've never seen," he teased._

"_Don't mock, Boromir, it doesn't become you. Besides, though I've never met him, I know he's real, and he will come for me one day."_

"_And how will you know him? You don't even know his name."_

"_I will know. You always have been skeptical of him, but I know he's real."_

"_It's not a question of being skeptical, Ella. I simply think you could do better for yourself than one of the Rohirrim."_

"_Oh, Boromir, surely not this again," she said rolling her eyes, well aware of her brother's disdain toward peoples not of Gondor._

"_They're barbarians, Ella, living more with their horses than with civilized people."_

"_That's not true. I believe you think too highly of yourself," she said with no small amount of hauteur of her own._

"_Well, Father won't look kindly upon your choice of husband, so I wouldn't get my hopes up."_

"_I don't care. I love him, and Father cannot stop me."_

"_Love him? You can't love him, you don't even know him!" he exclaimed, his voice rising in consternation._

"_And what do you know of love?" she yelled at him, her words mirroring his earlier words even as her eyes filled with tears, hurt that her brother scoffed at her dreams. "You who lavish more attention on your sword than you do on others! One day, you're going to find that you're just like Father, alone and unloved because you were too busy and scornful to love anyone back!" A sob caught at her throat and she ran from his room, leaving him to stare in bewilderment after her._

"Lady Ellemir, are you well?" The hurtful words she'd spoken to her brother so many years ago faded as Garulf's gravely voice brought Ellemir's attention abruptly back to the present, and she swallowed against a sudden lump in her throat.

"Y-yes, Garulf, I'm fine." Troubled, she spoke no more as he led her to hill a safe distance from the flames, where several elderly men and women were watching the small children while their parents fought the flames that threatened their homes.

"Garulf, we cannot stay here and do nothing. We have to go help," she told him earnestly, even as she fought fatigue.

"Lady, you did more than enough when you saw to the horses. It's time you rested."

"I'll rest when Éomer returns." A small girl suddenly appeared at Ellemir's shoulder with teary eyes, and with a gentle smile Ellemir pulled the child into her lap, rocking her soothingly back and forth.

"Would you like to hear a story?" she asked, wincing at how rough her voice sounded. The child nodded, and Ellemir felt a sense of relief that the child understood her. She didn't speak Rohirric, but luckily, the people of Rohan spoke the common language known to her. She began to speak, and as the story went on, more of the children gathered closer to hear the story, excited by the prospect of hearing a story they'd never heard before, a story of one of the last Gondorian kings.

By the time Éomer returned, sweat-streaked and filthy, Garulf was resting on the ground not far from Ellemir who sat surrounded by a group of children listening to her with rapt attention.

"Éomer!" she called out when she saw him. With a happy smile, she jumped up and threw herself at him, hugging him tightly, as though to reassure herself that he was there. "I was beginning to worry," she murmured as his arms came up around her.

"There was no need for you to worry—all is well. Come, I will show you to the Great Hall, where you can rest."

"And bathe, I hope," she said good-naturedly. Éomer chuckled a bit at that, thinking he might like a bath himself.

Garulf followed at a distance, a speculative look in his eyes as he watched the pair walking ahead of him, Éomer holding Ellemir's arm as he helped her climb up the hill toward Meduseld. _It would appear that the king's interest in this small Gondorian woman grows with each passing moment. _Having known Éomer since he was young, Garulf could well imagine the fun he was going to have watching Éomer try to figure out his feelings for the girl. _Yes, I shall watch him closely, for Lady Ellemir's presence will no doubt prove to be entertaining._

* * *

A/N: Keep the reviews coming, everyone! It's really encouraging, and it makes me happy! Oh, and if anyone knows what that "common language" is that everyone speaks in Middle Earth is called, please let me know. I'm getting ready to move, and my copy of_Guide to Middle Earth_ is already packed up, so I can't look it up. Anyways, help would be greatly appreciated. 

**Mesphia**: Glad you think the story is cute—hope you enjoyed the chapter. Ella didn't really have any funny scenes in this one, but there will definitely be more entertaining scenes to come. Oh, by the way, I think your pen name sounds pretty—can you explain the meaning behind it?

**Opera-Gypsy**: Thanks for the compliment! Ella is a really fun character to write, and I'm having a great time coming up with stuff for her. Anyways, let me know how you liked the chapter!

**mimishell**: Ok, so I'm hoping you'll have a chance to read this sometime soon, and that you'll review of course! I thought it was pretty funny what you said about your parents looking at you funny when you laughed at the scene from Chap. 7 where Ella was singing on the throne—giggles. I'm glad you're enjoying the continuous "angst" of the Faramir/Éowyn saga…granted, they get little "air time," but I do my best. Anyways, let me know what you think!

**wondereye**: You know, I've always been fond of the internal struggle dynamic in stories, so most of my fics have some form of it somewhere. It creates great angst, in my opinion, so I use it a lot. So, do you think Ella is weird in a good way, or a bad way?

**Shaquana**: I updated! How did you like it? Glad you "LOVE" the story—it's always nice to know that hard work is paying off, you know? Keep reviewing for me, and I'll keep updating!

**ModestySparrow9**: I feel so guilty, because you're always so quick to review all of my fics for me, and I'm so slack—sorry! Anyways, thanks so much for the really long review you sent! Yeah, Ella became fascinated with Rohan about the time she first spoke of her "man of Rohan" (see chapter 2). I really enjoy those flashback scenes, especially when the siblings are younger. So I'm glad you enjoy reading the flashbacks as much as I enjoy writing them. It's largely because of you that I decided to keep going with those flashbacks, back when I started doing it with Chapter 2. And yes, Denethor is definitely a jerk. As far as trying to publish something of my own, well, I've got a story I've been working on for several years, but sadly, it doesn't get nearly the attention my fanfic does. Fanfic sort of takes over your life, you know? It's also difficult for me to write the story because the main character is a soldier in the military, and my knowledge of the military is not all that extensive. Anyways, good luck with your LOTR fic. Your idea sounds intriguing—definitely something that hasn't been done. Imagine how gross it would be to be related to Wormtongue—ugh. Not a family connection I would be eager to claim—lol. I'll definitely take a look at it when you post it—just let me know! I'm really sorry to hear that you're busy a lot, now. I understand that. With luck, things will slow down, and you'll be able to catch your breath, and get your inspiration charged up. Anyways, as always, I look forward to hearing from you!


	9. Chapter 9: The Coming Darkness

Disclaimer: See chapter 1.

A/N: Sorry for the long wait in between chapters, everyone. And you all know the deal—I don't have a beta for this story, so if there are mistakes, I'm apologizing now for them.

Chapter 9: The Coming Darkness

As the sun set and calmness once more began to descend on Edoras, Éomer's anger towards Aeofrith returned in full force. The fires had been put out, but the fiery anger that burned in Éomer's heart flared to life, and he stormed into the main hall, slamming the doors open carelessly.

"Garulf." At the sound of Éomer's entrance, Garulf looked up from sharpening a lance-head, worry filling him as he beheld the fierce scowl on the king's face.

"Yes, my lord?"

"Find Aeofrith, and bring him to me." With a nod, Garulf stood and hurried off in search of the unfortunate scout who had elicited the king's displeasure, keeping his concerns for the scout to himself.

As Éomer angrily paced the throne room, he could feel his temper further fraying at the thought of Aeofrith's betrayal. He stilled suddenly as Garulf returned with Aeofrith behind him, and everyone in the room froze, well aware of the king's wrath. Servants scattered, not wanting to be present when Éomer vented his fury, the maids fearing the mess they might have to clean up if Éomer took his anger out on the furnishings.

Éomer paced in front of the throne, too edgy to sit down. He tried to walk off his anger, but the pacing only served to fuel his rage. All he could think about was the danger that Aeofrith's careless actions had placed Ellemir in, and what could have happened to her if he had been too late to save her from the burning stable._ Aeofrith risked her life, and I was almost too late to save her._ At that moment, Garulf returned with Aeofrith behind him, his head lowered submissively. The young scout came forward, kneeling before Éomer obediently, and Éomer stared down at him disdainfully.

"Do you know why I have called you here, Aeofrith?" Éomer asked in a deceptively calm voice.

"I imagine it has something to do with the lady Ellemir, my lord."

"Do you realize the danger you placed her in with your foolish actions? She could have perished in fire!"

"It was not my intention to risk her life, my lord. I have angered you, and for that I beg your forgiveness."

"Angered me? No, Aeofrith, I am beyond angry," he said softly, and Garulf knew it was simply the calm before the storm. He could see it in the king's eyes, the anger just waiting to spill out as he continued to speak. "You have betrayed me, and may all who hear me know _this_—I suffer betrayal from no one!" Éomer yelled, his thunderous voice echoing around the room.

At that moment, the doors of the great hall opened, and Ellemir strolled in, the hint of a smile lurking at the corners of her mouth. So caught up in his anger, Éomer didn't notice as he continued to berate the unfortunate Aeofrith.

"Éomer," she said softly, stepping forward and placing a restraining hand on his arm.

"What!" he yelled, turning angrily to face her without realizing who had spoken.

"I will not be spoken to in that manner, son of Éomund," she replied imperiously. Éomer blew out a sigh of annoyance, and lowered his voice.

"Ellemir, you should be resting," he said through gritted teeth, his tone giving away his fragile hold on his temper.

"Perhaps you should have considered that before you began yelling loud enough for all of Edoras to hear you," she chided gently. Her smile softened the words, and Éomer felt his anger ease slightly, the tension in his body slowly bleeding away. His temper spent, he turned back to Aeofrith, the hot rage replaced by a cold indifference as he gazed down at the scout who knelt before him.

"Pack your things. I want you gone from Rohan ere the sun rises over Edoras."

"Surely you don't mean to banish him," Ellemir said with a gasp as Aeofrith slowly began to climb to his feet. She stopped Aeofrith with a hand on his arm, turning to Éomer with disbelief. "Éomer, this man aided me when no one else would, and for this you would see him exiled?"

"He put you in danger," Éomer began, his brow lowering as he began to scowl.

"The fault was mine, and mine alone. Would you have had me go on unaccompanied?"

"I would that you had not gone at all," he answered, giving her a pointed look which she ignored.

"Aeofrith helped me, and in so doing, he served his king as he should have," Ellemir argued boldly, raising her chin authoritatively.

"In what manner did his disobedience serve me?"

"He saw me safely to Rohan, which is more than you did--" At this point, Éomer began to interrupt, but she continued, not allowing him a chance to argue. "Furthermore, were it not for him ensuring that I arrived safely, you could, in a few moments, be telling my brother why his only sister was killed on the journey to your homeland."

"You would have been perfectly safe had you stayed with me, but you insisted…did you say a few moments?"

"Why, yes, I believe I did," she said coyly. She turned towards the door, waiting expectantly, and it happened just as she said—the doors were thrown open and Faramir walked inside, the worry on his face melting away as he beheld his sister before him. His features belied his exhaustion, but for a moment it mattered not as relief swept through him. He hurried forward, grabbing Ellemir fiercely and pulling her to his chest in an ardent hug.

"Sister, I feared for you," he whispered, and she immediately tightened her arms around him, inhaling the thick scent of smoke that clung to him after his journey through fire-ravaged Edoras.

"I'm sorry, Faramir. I would not have worried you needlessly, but I had to follow him. I would not see him killed, not for anything in this world," she said softly, referring to Éomer. "I could not let him perish."

"I understand," he replied just as softly. "I would not have you lose the one you love," he whispered in her ear, seeing Éowyn in his mind, though he referred to Éomer.

He stepped back from her, turning to look at Éomer with a weary expression. "I suppose I should offer you my thanks, Éomer King, for seeing to my sister's safety."

Ellemir cast a look at Aeofrith who still knelt before Éomer, forgotten as they had spoken of his fate, before she turned to stare meaningfully at Éomer. Éomer caught her expression, and scowled, uncertain if he was scowling at Aeofrith or Ellemir before he turned to face the former Steward of Gondor.

"You need not thank me, Faramir. Your sister won over my men with her charm, and they were all too glad to see to her comfort and safety," he said graciously, ignoring the amusement blossoming on Ellemir's face. He turned to the young scout who knelt at his feet and motioned for him to stand. Aeofrith met Éomer's unforgiving gaze and lowered his eyes submissively as Éomer spoke. "Take your place along the outer perimeter, Aeofrith. We will speak later." The scout stood, bowing respectfully before he turned to leave, turning grateful eyes on Ellemir as he passed her.

As Aeofrith left, Éowyn entered the Hall, her face smeared with soot as she walked swiftly towards Éomer. "I've seen the ruin the fires have caused--have you discovered the cause yet?"

"No, but I imagine it was merely one of the villagers who grew careless and allowed a cook-fire to burn out of control."

"It is not that, my friend," Faramir said, shaking his head as his eyes met Éomer's. "There is more at work here, and I vow it is no good, Éomer. The fire was set intentionally."

"What proof do you have of this?"

"Do you doubt my brother's word?" Ellemir asked angrily.

"No, I merely wish to know what gives him cause to assume that someone would willfully start a fire in the very heart of Rohan."

"I am afraid I can tell you no more than I told Éowyn. I know only what my heart tells me, and that is that someone is at the center of this trouble."

"That makes no sense, Faramir."

"No, he's right, Éomer. Whoever set this fire is preparing to move against Rohan. It will be soon," Ellemir said softly.

"And yet, you can tell me no more than that?"

"I'm sorry, Éomer. I know no more."

"And what would you have me do? Hide away and wait for an attack that may never come from some nameless enemy that we have no proof of?"

"My lord, I think there is proof," Garulf spoke from the doorway. Everyone turned to watch him as he approached Éomer with apprehension.

"Of what do you speak?" Éomer asked with narrowed eyes.

"My lord, the treasury…some of Rohan's treasures have been taken."

"What!"

"Garulf, what is missing?" Éowyn asked quickly, stepping in front of her brother before he could lash out at the unfortunate bearer of bad news.

"The crowns, my lord, as well as the royal chalice." Éomer's eyes closed as he struggled to hold onto his temper. With a roar of outrage, he slammed his fist into the closest pillar, not even feeling a glimmer of pain as his anger welled up inside him.

"I want them found, and the thieves punished, Garulf! Do you understand?"

"Éomer, it is not merely thieves that plague your land. I think this merely the beginning of something much more sinister," Faramir said insistently.

"Faramir, until you can offer me some proof of the words you speak, I wish not to listen to mere suspicions and baseless accusations." Ellemir shared a worried look with Faramir as Éomer turned his back and went back to his throne. He put his head in his hands, wincing at the pain that suddenly shot through his injured hand.

"Come, Éomer, let me tend to your hand," Ellemir said softly, understanding that Éomer could take no more. Exhausted in both body and spirit and still recovering from his recent injuries, the new king of Rohan had reached the end of his rope. He allowed Ellemir to pull him to his feet, retaining his hold on her hand as she led him towards the door.

"Éowyn, see to the Steward's needs, and have one of the servants prepare a room for him," Éomer said wearily as he passed his sister and Faramir. She nodded wordlessly, watching as Éomer followed Ellemir without argument, a first for her stubborn, hot-tempered brother.

"Faramir, I think my brother is succumbing to your sister's charm," she said, turning to Faramir with a smile.

"As I have succumbed to _his_ sister's charm," Faramir replied with a smile of his own.

* * *

Éomer's gaze raked over Ellemir as she cradled his hand, carefully bandaging his bruised and bleeding hand as he looked on. 

"You know, this sort of thing wouldn't happen if you would control your temper better," she chided softly.

"There's nothing wrong with my temper," he argued, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge the mild rebuke.

"How like a man—to refuse to see his faults for fear that it may damage his manhood."

"And how like a woman, to continually point out the faults we men try so hard to deny," he said, quirking an eyebrow at her. She chuckled, gracing him with a smile that filled her entire face. His own smile slowly faded as he stared at her, entranced by her soft smile and shining eyes. She finished wrapping the bandage then, and looked up, meeting his eyes, and Éomer could not say how long they remained thus, still and silent as they stared at one another. Finally, she shook her head, a regretful smile on her face as she looked away with a small laugh.

"I can see I shall not have a moment's peace with you, son of Éomund."

"What is it you mean by that?"

"You are going to prove to be a constant worry for me."

"And do you fear for me?"

"Yes," she said softly, glancing at him shyly, her face turning pink with bashfulness.

"Mayhap you understand how it feels now, for you have been a limitless source of anxiety for me as well."

"I wouldn't want you to become complacent now, would I?" she teased playfully. "Perhaps I want you to worry for me."

"Well, then, my lady, you have succeeded beyond your expectations," he replied smartly.

He helped her stand and she leaned into him, pillowing her head on his chest for just a moment, blinking sleepily before she straightened with a tired smile.

"Come, Ellemir, I'll lead you back to bed. Your body is weary, and you need rest."

"Yes, I _am_ tired," she admitted as she placed her hand in the crook of his arm. She leaned against him once more as he escorted her back to her room, enjoying the feel of his strong arm beneath her hand, the feel of his body alongside hers. Truth be told, Éomer was enjoying it as well, and he was reluctant to release her as they reached her chambers.

At the door, she paused, looking up at him expectantly, as he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her gently upon the forehead.

"May your sleep be restful, daughter of Gondor," he murmured as he stepped back. She smiled at him before quietly shutting the door.

* * *

_In her dream, she was running, running from some faceless evil that shadowed her, always on her heels. Her chest burned from exertion as she struggled to catch her breath, tiring from the endless pursuit. She sensed more than saw the darkness suddenly coming at her from all sides, and she lurched to a stop, her eyes wide with fear as the shadows thickened menacingly, threatening to close in on her_. Always before in my dreams, I see myself as if I were watching from a distance, but this dream is different. _I am here now, in this dream, as though this is happening to me now. _Is this a vision, then, or simply a dream? 

"_Please…what do you want from me?" she asked, turning in a circle blindly, her eyes searching the darkness fearfully. A shape moved in the darkness, and suddenly out of the shadows, a man seemed to take form before her, his massive body towering over her in a sinister way. His eyes seemed to glow, as though lit from within by some great evil, and she shuddered, wanting to step back but fearing the darkness behind her as well._

"_What we want is not yours to give," the man said, his voice grating and harsh to her ears. _

"_I don't understand—why do you pursue me?"_

"_Because you are the key."_

"_The key to what?" she asked, confused._

"_To his downfall."_

_And with a gasp, Ellemir suddenly realized who the man was speaking of._

"_No!" she cried. "I will not be the pawn by which you destroy all that I hold dear!"_

"_You cannot stop us. Long have we waited for the right moment to strike, and now the time has come. At last we will witness the destruction of the House of Eorl." _

_And as the darkness closed in on her, Ellemir felt terror rise in her heart, not for herself, but for Éomer. _

"No!" she screamed, jerking upright in bed. Her eyes darted around the room, fearfully searching the shadows cast by the fire in the hearth. Glancing at the window, she saw that it was not yet dawn, for darkness still covered the land. She threw off the bedcovers and hurriedly dressed, anxious to beat the coming darkness. She pulled a cloak on over her shoulders and pushed open the door, peeking outside into the dim hallway. Seeing the corridor clear, she stepped out, her feet propelling her in the direction of Éomer's room even as her mind questioned how she knew the way. It seemed as though her feet had walked this corridor many times, though rationally she knew she had not. _I just want to see him, just for a moment. _

She paused outside a closed door, knowing instinctively that Éomer was inside. She lifted her hand to knock, her fingers inches from the wooden door but she stopped, her fingers clenching as she slowly lowered her hand. She wanted the feel of his arms around her, holding her close and shielding her from all that she feared, but she hesitated. _He cannot save me now. He'll only get himself killed trying._

"Forgive me," she whispered, tears in her eyes as she stepped back and turned away.

* * *

"Faramir." The urgent whisper penetrated the thick fog of sleep, and Faramir's eyes blinked open to behold his sister leaning over him. 

"Ella, what is it?" he asked, sitting up in sudden alarm.

"Faramir, will you come with me?" she asked, her distress apparent by her glistening eyes and the sorrow in her voice.

"To where?" he asked, confused and still groggy from sleep. He stood, moving to stand in front of her as he struggled to push away the fog of sleep.

"I mustn't stay here—I cannot be here when they come." She wrung her hands, panic leaking into her voice as she gazed up at him with beseeching eyes.

"Ella, you're not making sense," he said, gripping her shoulders in an attempt to calm her. "Of what do you speak?" he asked, worried now at the sight of her anxiety.

"Please, Faramir, ask me no more. Just come with me," she pleaded, tears spilling from her eyes.

"You will explain all of this to me on the journey back to Minas Tirith," he commanded as he moved past her to grab his clothes.

"Yes, of course. I swear it," she said gratefully as he hastily drew on his tunic and gathered his things.

"You're certain we need to leave before daybreak?" he asked, looking at her intently.

"Yes. I would not have woken you without reason, Faramir."

"Have you told Éomer that we are leaving?"

"No. He must not know, Faramir. He will try to stop us—I'm certain of it."

"I need to speak to Éowyn ere we leave—you see to the horses, and I'll meet you at the gates." She stared at him for a long moment before she nodded.

"Hurry, Faramir," she said gravely before turning sharply on her heel and rushing away.

* * *

A knock on the door pulled Éowyn out of a deep sleep, and she rushed for the door, fearing that something had happened. She jerked open the door to see Faramir standing there, hidden in shadow, his face almost completely concealed by the cowl of his cloak. 

"Faramir, what is it?"

"I have to leave, Éowyn, but I didn't wish to go without saying farewell."

"Farewell? Faramir, dawn is not yet upon us—what is this talk of leaving?"

"It's Ellemir—she's frightened, and says we cannot say, though I know not why. She speaks of someone coming, someone she fears, but she will say no more than that."

"Mayhap it was just a dream that frightened her," Éowyn offered sincerely, hoping to convince him to stay.

"No, Éowyn, I fear it is far more than that," he replied, shaking his head sadly.

"But you have said yourself that she's far more skittish than she used to be," Éowyn pointed out.

"Yes, but not about this. I learned long ago that her gift of foresight is not to be taken lightly."

"I suppose you're right…have you told Éomer of your departure?"

"No. Ella said he mustn't know, and I'm inclined to agree with her. Please, Éowyn, for all our sakes, say nothing of this," he said, his eyes gazing into hers with almost frightening intensity, and Éowyn sighed, knowing she could not deny him what he asked of her.

"Very well. I will hold my tongue for now, Faramir. But be careful."

He kissed her then, a soft kiss that did not come near to expressing the depth of his affection for her, and he lingered for a moment, savoring the feel of her in his arms before he reluctantly stepped back.

"Until we meet again, White Lady," he said softly. He melted into the shadows and disappeared, and Éowyn's hand came up to cover her heart, feeling a deep ache there as she stared into the empty darkness after him.

"May your journey be safe, and no harm befall you," she whispered into the vacant corridor.

* * *

A/N: I'm sure some of you probably noticed the lack of a flashback scene, and I just wanted to explain: this chapter simply wasn't conducive to a flashback. I couldn't fit it into this chapter, but I'll try to fit one into the next chapter, because I enjoy writing them as much as you all enjoy reading them. Or I'm assuming you all enjoy them…anyways, I don't know if this is my best chapter, but I hope you all liked it. 

**Arien's shadow**: Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and thanks for reviewing.

**dark88poet**: New reviewer—yay! Hope you liked this chapter as well, and I also hope you review again-lol.

**mimishell**: You know, maybe I should use your phrase as a chapter title—"Chapter 10: Eomer Goes Badass." LOL, j/k. I'm glad you like Ellemir—I'm trying to make her a stronger female than my others, like Orainne and Niamh. Glad to know the flashback was good—sibling-y was what I was going for.

**Artemis Darkclaw**: You're so great for going back and reviewing every chapter—so sweet. Thanks! Ellemir does sort of seem like a grown-up version of Hummingbird, doesn't she? LOL. Anyways, I hope you liked this chapter, even though there was no flashback.

**wondereye**: I'm glad you're going to keep reading, even if you think Ella is a bit strange. Thanks for the review!

**Mesphia**: Thanks for explaining your pen name for me. And I'm glad you liked the last chapter despite its lack of humor. Anyways, let me know what you think about this one, okay?

**Shaquana**: Here's the update I owed you—sorry for the long wait! Anyways, let me know what you think!

**ModestySparrow9**: I'm sorry about the lack of Boromir/flashback in this chapter, Modesty. I just couldn't get it to work. I'm waiting for "The Island" to go to the cheap movie theater so that I can go see it, because Sean Bean is really attractive. Have you seen him in "Flightplan" yet? I haven't, but it looks pretty good. Basically, my military story that you asked about is the story of this guy AJ, and it's sort of a "psychological journey" sort of story where he has to work through a troublesome past before he can be happy. Lucky for me that my best friend's husband is in the military. Anyways, thanks so much for reviewing for me, Modesty, because I always appreciate hearing from you!


	10. Chapter 10: Self Fulfilling Prophecy

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

A/N: Ok, so I went through and I think I corrected all of the mistakes. If I missed something, I'm sorry. While I'm apologizing, let me also say that I'm sorry for making everyone wait so darn long for this chapter. Aside from that, let me know what you think of the chapter, ok?

Chapter 10: Self-Fulfilling Prophecy

"Where is she?" Éomer roared, slamming Aeofrith against the wall, his eyes blazing with fury.

"I know not what you mean, my lord," Aeofrith gasped as Éomer's grip on his throat tightened menacingly.

"My lord, if you kill him, he won't be able to answer," Garulf said pointedly, attempting to calm the king down before he strangled the scout.

"Éomer!" Éomer's head whipped around as Éowyn hurried toward him, staring at him in disbelief. "What madness has overcome your senses? Release him!" She placed her hand on his arm, but he would not be swayed as he stared furiously at Aeofrith.

"Not until he tells me what I want to know! She's gone again, and he is going to tell me where she went this time!"

"If it is Ellemir you speak of, then he doesn't know," Éowyn said softly. A slight hitch in her voice caught Éomer's attention and he turned a dark gaze on his sister, his fingers loosening imperceptibly.

"And what do you know of it?"

"Let him go, and I will tell you," she told him calmly. _I'm sorry I must break my word, Faramir, but there is no help for it. He'll kill Aeofrith if I don't tell him._ With an angry glare, Éomer released Aeofrith and wheeled around to face her.

"Where is she?"

"He asked me not to say."

"Who did?"

"Faramir."

"Why?"

"I'm not certain. I think Ellemir asked him to say thus."

"And what cause would she have to not speak to me ere she left, Éowyn?"

"I think something was amiss, Éomer. Ellemir was upset by something she saw and begged Faramir to leave with her. And Faramir couldn't very well let her go alone, so he left with her."

"So, they've left Rohan?"

"Yes."

"When did they depart?"

"Before sunrise."

"So you knew and said nothing!" he roared, angry that Éowyn could have stopped them from leaving and had instead done nothing.

"I'm sorry, Éomer, but Ellemir told Faramir that you mustn't know of their departure. I think she feared what would happen if you knew."

"If she feared that I would stop her, then her fears were not unfounded, for well I would have expected a better reason for her departure than baseless fears."

"Éomer, you shouldn't doubt her though you understand not her reasoning. She sees things that you do not. If she felt she needed to go, we should respect that."

"And so I do nothing?" he asked incredulously, his voice rising with his ire.

"You'll simply have to be patient," Éowyn said, knowing that the words were foolish even as she said them. Éomer was not know for his patience.

"So be it," Éomer growled. "Speak no more of her to me."

"Éomer, she was only trying to protect you!"

"And am I so weak that I need protection?"

"No, of course not," she began, but he cut her off.

"We are done here," he said with finality. She watched helplessly as he brushed past her angrily, headed no doubt for the stables to calm himself. _Oh, Faramir, how I wish you'd convinced your sister to speak to Éomer ere she left._ She worried that this newly-formed rift would not be so easily healed, for well she knew how unforgiving her older brother could be.

* * *

"Ella, we should stop. The horses need rest." 

"We cannot stop now, Faramir!" she called over her shoulder as they rode for Gondor.

"If we don't, we endanger the horses." With a worried sigh, she reluctantly reined in her horse behind him and allowed Faramir to lift her from the saddle. "We'll rest for a time and let the horses recover," he told her.

"We shouldn't tarry here," she said worriedly, her eyes sweeping the horizon.

"Surely the danger you sensed is not so close that we cannot rest for a moment," Faramir said reasonably.

"Do you not sense it? There is something in the air, a sense of urgency. It frightens me, Faramir."

"Have you seen nothing more that could inform us of the danger you've spoken of?"

"No. I know only what I saw in my dream--a distant foe who seeks power over Rohan."

"What did you see that so frightened you that you were afraid to remain in Rohan?"

"You didn't see the hatred in their eyes, Faramir. Or hear the evil in the voice of the one who leads them as he spoke of Éomer."

"Know you the one who spoke?"

"No, I know not who he was. But his mind is twisted by hate, and he longs to see Éomer fall." She paused, her fearful eyes gazing up at him, and she reached for his arm. "He wishes to use me against Éomer. I was afraid that if we stayed, he would succeed."

"This foe--know you if it is Man, Dwarf, Elf, or some other?"

"Man."

"By far, the most dangerous of the three," Faramir murmured to himself.

"Why do you say so?"

"I have seen what Man is capable of, his potential for destruction."

"But Man is also capable of great kindness and beauty," she argued.

"Perhaps, but his capacity for destruction far outweighs the others, I think."

She frowned up at him, discouraged by the resolve she saw in his face.

"Faramir, have you lost all hope in Man?" she asked softly.

"Sometimes, I am not certain."

"It was not always so," she said sadly. "Once, you had faith in Man, just as Boromir did. But something happened along the way—too many men were killed by Sauron's forces, and you both lost your faith." She could still recall the day that Boromir's faith in Man had suffered a devastating blow…

_Ellemir swayed on her feet, despair preying on her mind as she turned to stare at the rows of wounded lying on cots before her. _There's so many of them, and I am no healerThere is little else I can do here_, she thought desolately. _

"_My lady, you must speak to him—he won't leave!" One of the healers spoke to her, pleading as he caught her hand in appeal. _

"_What do you speak of?" she asked, confused by his sudden appearance at her side._

"_The Lord Boromir. He refuses to go, he says he won't leave Master Kyril." _

"_Kyril?" she asked, instantly bringing to mind the image of Boromir's closest friend, aside from Faramir. "Is he among the wounded?"_

"_No, my lady. He's among the fallen," the healer said softly._

"_Oh, Kyril," she murmured sorrowfully._

"_Lord Boromir has taken up vigil beside Master Kyril and will not be swayed to leave. He is injured, my lady, but will not let us tend his wounds." _

"_He's hurt?" she exclaimed in dismay. _

"_They are not serious wounds, but your brother is weary—he needs rest, my lady, but he will not be swayed by us. We thought, perhaps, that he would listen to you."_

"_Very well. I shall try my best," she said, though her heart ached with grief and despair at the darkness that seemed to be overtaking them all. _Boromir is the strongest of us. He cannot fall into despair, or there shall be no hope for any of us_. Weariness beat at her as she slowly made her way to the fallen. There, shrouded in the oppressive darkness within, Boromir sat beside a still figure, his face hidden in shadow. _

"_Boromir," she said softly, walking quietly toward him. She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, feeling the tremors that wracked his solid frame as he struggled to contain his grief. "I am sorry for your loss, brother," she whispered._

"_He was right beside me," he murmured. "I lost sight of him, and when next I saw him, the Easterlings overtook him. Men no different than us, and yet they care not. They slaughter us as easily as Orcs."_

"_I'm sorry you had to see it. To watch as they killed your friend before your very eyes…"_

"_No, Ella, you don't understand—they didn't simply kill him. They tormented him first, as a cat toys with its prey. Today, I have seen men become little more than beasts…what do we fight the growing darkness for, if man has already fallen?"_

_She felt an answering despair well up inside her at his words, but she somehow found it in her to fight it, knowing instinctively that she had to be strong for him. "Boromir, you mustn't say that! We must keep fighting," she cried, even as the darkness within her grew, as hope and courage faltered. "Bolster your courage, brother, and do not despair," she said, her gentle voice pleading with him. _

"_My hope in Man is but small, Ella, but for you, I will try," he said softly, and she subtly relaxed as a glimmer of his former strength reappeared in his eyes._

"_Come, you must rest now. Let the healers tend your wounds."_

"_There are others who need their aid more than I. I will remain here, with Kyril."_

"_Why do you torment yourself this way?"_

"_Because he was my friend, and I will not have him lost and forgotten in this darkness."_

"_Brother, your body is weary and your heart is troubled. Go and rest. I will stay with Kyril until you can return. He will not be forgotten." Boromir looked up at her with red-rimmed eyes, his penetrating gaze capturing hers for a seemingly timeless moment before he finally nodded. She helped him stand, waiting at his side as he stared down at Kyril with pain-filled eyes. Sensing his need for comfort, she gently enfolded him in her arms, holding him as he began to vent his grief. As sobs overcame him, he began to wilt, and she struggled to support him as he fell to his knees once more. _

It is an odd feeling_, Ellemir thought, _to be the strong one. _Her heart was breaking as she supported her brother, he who had always been the strongest, the one they all depended on. To see him before her, broken and bleeding, was almost more than she could bear._

_As Boromir's grief finally subsided, Ellemir looked up to see one of Boromir's men standing hesitantly in the doorway, an offer of assistance in his eyes. She gestured to him to come forward, and together they pulled Boromir to his feet. As the soldier held Boromir up and led him away, the darkness threatened to overwhelm her once again. She turned back to Kyril with tear-filled eyes as she thought of her brother's wavering hope in Man. _I can't be the strong one—If Boromir falters, then surely we will all fall.We must have hope that Man will prevail, for without it, we are lost _she thought, the last bit of light within her fighting the darkness that beat at her incessantly._

"I wish you'd told me sooner of your fears," Faramir said suddenly, bringing her attention back to the present.

"What fears?" she asked, slightly confused as she sought to remember what they had been speaking of.

"The fears that gave you cause to make us leave Rohan, Ellemir—have you heard nothing I have said?" he asked in exasperation.

"Oh, of course. But why do you wish I had told you of them sooner?"

"Because rushing away from Rohan without escort was foolish. Had I known we faced pursuit from some strange foe, I would not have been so quick to agree to leaving."

"What would you have had me done? Surely you can see that I had no choice!"

"I think we would have done better to wait," Faramir said softly, his eyes suddenly gazing past her. "Ellemir, get back on your horse," he commanded, his quiet tone belying his urgency. She turned in the direction he was staring, and a chill went down her spine. She quickly hurried into the saddle as Faramir leaped onto his own horse and pulled his horse around in order to place himself between Ellemir and the fast-approaching enemy.

Ellemir could hear her heart pounding almost in time with the drumming hoof beats of the two horses as they tried to outrun their foe. She feared to look behind her as they fled across the plains, and she desperately wished that she was merely dreaming.

As he used his body to shield Ellemir from harm, Faramir looked back to gauge how many men were pursuing them, and he felt his heart quail at the sight of their pursuers. Resolve rallied in his breast, though, and he urged his horse to go faster, for even though their capture was eminent, Faramir couldn't find it in himself to simply give up.

A wrenching pain in his back suddenly gripped him as an arrow found its mark. He slumped against the horse's neck as the pain enveloped him, and he heard Ellemir cry his name. Distantly, he felt himself slip from the saddle and the jarring impact with the ground, and then Ellemir was beside him, crying his name frantically.

As Ellemir knelt over her brother, desperately trying to wake him, rough hands suddenly pulled her away, jerking her to her feet. Tossing her head defiantly, she looked up to see a large, coarse man standing before her, and his face was all too familiar.

"Take her," he said, his voice harsh and raucous as he stared down at her. "She's the one." She fought the ones that held her as they pulled her towards one of their horses, and she cried out, fear inching its way into her heart as they secured her in a saddle. As they rode away, she began to cry as Faramir lay where he'd fallen. _Please don't die, brother,_ she thought desperately_. You are all that is left to me. I cannot lose you as I lost Boromir._ _Forgive me, Faramir, for I have let this come to pass. I was wrong—we should have stayed in Rohan._

As she was taken farther and farther away, Faramir struggled to climb to his feet, fighting the pain and the darkness that assailed him. _I have to warn Éomer. _It was his last thought before he was swallowed up by the darkness.

* * *

A/N: Thanks to all of the wonderful people who sent me reviews: 

**Mesphia:** Yay, I got a flashback in! I hope you enjoyed it, because it took some time before I could figure out what sort of flashback I could put in.

**wondereye**: Yeah, you can see how mad Éomer was about Ella leaving. Now, he's moved on to the "I'm ignoring the problem" stage. Anyways, thanks for the review, and I'll hope you'll review this chapter for me as well!

**Artemis Darkclaw**: I was glad to hear that you liked the last chapter despite the lack of a flashback. I was able to squeeze a flashback into this chapter, so I hope you liked it. And while this chapter title isn't quite as cool as some of the others, I have fun trying to come up with cool titles, nevertheless.

**ModestySparrow9**: Did you notice the flashback? I'm working ever so hard to make sure that my chapters of this story have flashbacks, because they're so fun! How did you like this one? I was so sorry to hear about your computer problems—I recently had issues with a disk that became corrupted, so I really understand how you feel. Granted, I only lost school stuff, not fanfiction material—nothing important. LOL. Anyways, I hope you get everything sorted out with the computer. Anyways, thanks for reviewing, and I hope you'll review again! Expect more Dayn chapters soon, because I'm already working on the next chapter for "A Shattered Soul."

**mimishell**: Ok, so I got your boy in this chapter quite a bit, so you'll have to let me know what you think. There's still a bit of that whole brother-sister interaction between him and Ella that I think you'll like. And yes, I did fulfill my need for angry man stereotyping with the last chapter. Oh, wait…I did it in this chapter as well. LOL. As always, I have to get my temperamental males in, you know how that is. As a psychology person, you'll perhaps recognize that Éomer covers up his worry with anger. Yes, that's right—that's precisely why I do it. Hah. Anyways, thanks for reviewing for me, because you know how it just makes my day!


	11. Chapter 11: Plans Made in Haste

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

A/N: Sorry for the long delay, everyone. I was going to use a beta, but decided against it at the last minute, because I figure you all have waited long enough for this chapter. It would have been cruel to make you wait longer. Anyways, sorry if there are any mistakes. Hope you enjoy, and please review!

Chapter 11: Plans Made in Haste

Darufin watched as a cadre of men on horseback appeared on the horizon, heading for something that lay on the grass. Although they were a considerable distance away, he could tell by their garb that they were no men of Rohan, and he was immediately suspicious. Only the king's men would be patrolling the plains this far from one of the villages in the Eastfold or Edoras. As he watched, they surrounded the fallen object, one of them toeing it with distaste before drawing back his leg and delivering a harsh kick. Darufin frowned, trying to discern what it was that held their attention. But it was too far away.

He backed away from the rocks that concealed him and returned to his horse, which waited patiently nearby. He mounted with the ease of one who has ridden since childhood, and with a flick of the reins, urged the horse into a swift gallop.

Though the strangers easily outnumbered him, he was unconcerned as he hefted his spear. The men looked up as he thundered toward them, and they spread out, preparing to surround him as he closed the distance between them. When he was within throwing distance, he reined in his horse, his eyes narrowing as he sized up his foes. Though he was a strong fighter and was trained in the ways of fighting on horseback, Darufin knew he hadn't the king's skills when it came to using the lance, and to be overly confident with the spear would be folly. No, his strength rested in his sword skills, and he knew his odds of success against these foes would be much greater with his sword.

"Move onward, man of Rohan. You have no business here," one of them called out.

"I serve the king, and any business on the plains of Rohan _is_ my business," Darufin answered in a deceptively calm voice.

"Men of Rohan must always venture where they're not wanted, Fraehelm, don't you know this?" another said loudly, stepping forward to speak for them all. "No, we will have to dispose of him before he returns squealing to his king. Then, we'll take care of the other. It wouldn't do to have them discovered before the time is right." The others guffawed loudly at this, but Darufin's eerie gaze never wavered from the man who had spoken, and they slowly fell silent.

Darufin was still as they slowly surrounded him, and his pale green eyes steadily observed as they began to circle him. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, holding it in a high guard as they closed in on him. The circle around him narrowed, and for a long moment everyone was still, each waiting for someone else to make the first move. Darufin allowed himself a small smile as he patiently waited for his opponents to strike.

Though holding his stance was of considerable difficulty, Darufin preferred the higher stance, as it enabled him to more effectively wield the large sword. He was a patient man, easily capable of making the first move, but preferring to let his enemies wait him out. Sure enough, one of the warriors could no longer cope with the tension and charged forward with his sword outstretched.

Darufin easily sidestepped the clumsy approach, bringing his sword around in an arc that caught the unfortunate man in a debilitating blow to the back as the man passed. The man fell to the ground, unmoving, as two more warriors moved in to strike. They charged Darufin, but he maneuvered once more, spinning out of the first man's path and grabbing the second by the cloak, using it to sling him into the first man.

Both of his opponents awkwardly fell to the ground, and he used that moment to stab his sword down, piercing one's armor as he drove the sword into his throat. The other regained his footing and came at Darufin in a roar of outrage, his anger blinding him to the stupidity of charging so impetuously with his guard low. Tightening his grip on his sword, Darufin ducked low and with one stout swing of his sword, cleaved clear through the man's armor, cutting deeply into his abdomen, a blow Darufin knew he would not recover from.

The others were more wary now, not quite so confident, though the numbers were still in their favor. Darufin knelt, mockingly wiping his sword clean on the ground as his eyes continued to stare at his enemies.

"Perhaps you would care to tell me of your business in Rohan, now. Or perhaps why you attacked this man," Darufin said easily, referring to the injured man. His friendly tone belied the bodies on the ground around him and the cold gleam in his eye, and none of the men replied, each of them looking at their leader uncomfortably.

"You should have heeded my warning, man of Rohan, for now I shall stop your meddling once and for all," the leader said angrily.

"We shall see," Darufin responded softly. He shifted his grip on his sword as he came to his feet, meeting the man head-on in a grating clash of steel. The sound of their swords engaging rang in the air as each man sought to find a weakness in the other. Darufin was infinitely more patient than his opponent, and it came as no surprise that the other man's advances became reckless, his moves sloppy in his haste to overcome Darufin. The scout responded with ease, not allowing emotion to interfere with his fighting skills, and he had little trouble blocking the brash moves. In all honesty, it wasn't difficult to retain his stoicism, because he really had no strong feelings on the matter.

Their swords locked, and the other man pressed hard, trying to force Darufin to his knees, but with a quick turn of his wrists, Darufin slipped his sword free and grabbed the man's sword hand, his grip crushing the other man's hand and forcing him to drop his sword. Darufin followed up with an elbow to the man's face, pulverizing the man's nose and bringing him to his knees before swinging his sword in a wide arc that cleanly decapitated the man where he knelt.

Straightening, Darufin turned to face the remaining warriors, daring them to attack. Anger warred with reluctance in their eyes as they each silently wondered whether to fight or retreat; but in the end, their pride made the decision for them. They attacked as one, attempting to overwhelm him with sheer force of numbers, but Darufin was prepared for them. He parried their swings, blocking even as his arms burned with fatigue, and he spared a moment to wish he was not such a loner. Few of the Rohirrim traveled alone, but he preferred his own company to that of his people. _Thus, I shall have to defeat these foes alone. Such is the life of an outsider. _

One moved in while he fought another, attempting to catch him from behind with a blow that would have cut a man in two. But Darufin, sensing someone behind him, threw himself to the side, and the warrior cut his own man down. Darufin rolled to his feet, catching a nearby man by surprise, and with a quick thrust of his sword, slew the unwary fighter. Darufin worked his way through the warriors in a circular fashion, slaying whoever got in his path, fighting with a strange detachment as fatigue threatened to do what his opponents could not. Finally, the last man fell, and Darufin staggered a bit before he straightened and looked around to ensure that no one remained. His enemies were dead, their horses fled, and only Darufin and the wounded man remained alive.

Sweat dripped into Darufin's eyes, but he ignored it as he knelt next to the fallen man. _Strange. He wears not the garb of the Rohirrim. He has the look of a foreigner, but for what purpose would one such as this be on the plains of Rohan? _There were too many unknown variables, and Darufin didn't like it. _The king must hear of this. _He frowned as he examined the arrow in the man's back, concerned at the looks of the wound. He gently pulled the arrow from the man's back, and blood instantly began to spill from the wound. Placing one hand firmly on the wound to slow the bleeding, Darufin pulled at the sash around his waist. He wound it around the man's torso, with only a slight wrinkle in his forehead betraying his dissatisfaction with the makeshift bandage. _It will have to do for now. There is no time to spare. _

Darufin easily lifted the fallen man onto the back of his horse, knowing that there was need for haste now. He didn't bother to wipe the blood from his hands as he mounted behind the fallen man, and grabbing the reins, he spurred the horse into a quick gallop.

Sleep beckoned, but Darufin pushed away his exhaustion with steely resolve, unwilling to succumb to his body's need for rest now. Not when the king had need of him.

* * *

No one spoke to her, and Ellemir found the silence disturbing. She had put up a struggle at first, but had only succeeded in exhausting herself. _If only I'd had my sword,_ she thought in self-derision, _I might have proved a more worthy opponent. But I so foolishly left Rohan in haste, without thought of a sword. Just as I did when I impulsively left Gondor in pursuit of Éomer. _Fear and worry ate at her, and it was all she could do not to dissolve into tears. A sob clawed at her throat, but pride kept her from giving into her despair. As though some glimmer of hope rallied in her heart, Ellemir gave herself a mental shake, her self-respect unwilling to allow her to sit idly by while her captors took her farther and farther away from her brother and Éomer. 

Her mind began to race, furiously working on a plan that could enable her to escape. She glanced upward, noting that the sun was still high in the sky, and she felt her heart sink a bit. _I cannot escape their gaze in the light of day. Only darkness can hide me,_ she thought, biting her lip as her fear of the dark loomed over her. _I shouldn't fear--I've been in the dark before with no harm befalling me…I did it as a child often, and even after the palantír, I've been safe in the darkness…of course, then, I wasn't alone and lost. _No, the last time she'd been out in the dark of night, she'd been with Boromir, just a few weeks before his departure for Rivendell…

Ellemir stood at the balcony looking out over the gardens, lost in thought as the air grew colder. She shivered as she watched dark clouds drift over the moon, and she wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders as she began to step back into the light of her room. Suddenly, someone grabbed her from behind and she jerked away with a scream, only to hear a familiar laugh echo in her ears.

"_Don't frighten me like that, Boromir," she said angrily, shoving him away as she tried to calm her pounding heart. His mischievous smile faded as he realized she was truly frightened and his mirth vanished in an instant._

"_Ella, what is it? It's not like you to be so skittish."_

"_Think no more on it, brother. I simply don't wish for you to startle me that way. I find I no longer have the heart for it." He gazed at her worriedly for a long moment until he forced his misgiving away. With a mental shrug, his smile reappeared and his eyes lit with mischief. "What?" she asked, her eyes beginning to warm as she wondered just what had brought her brother to her room._

"_I came to invite you to join me," he replied ambiguously._

"_And where are you going?"_

"_Well, myself and some of my men have plans to visit one of the taverns near the Great Gate. It promises to be an enjoyable event."_

"_Boromir, I'm certain Father wouldn't approve of his only daughter being in a tavern, to say nothing of being with you and your men," she said with a smile._

"_Yes, well, as long as Father doesn't know, it won't matter if he approves or not," he replied with a smirk. "So, will you join us?"_

"_Of course I will, brother of mine," she answered, her eyes alight with mischief as she gathered her cloak._

_The evening was everything Boromir had promised, and she had a splendid time singing and laughing with Boromir and his men. They were respectful of her, and everyone was inebriated enough to not mind her off-key singing. Ellemir secretly thought that the lack of singing skill on the part of many of the men helped mask her own inability to sing, but it mattered little. After many hours, however, she found herself yawning with exhaustion, and she settled wearily on a bench. Before long, she was asleep, her head pillowed on an abandoned cloak someone had left lying on the bench. The next thing she knew, Boromir was shaking her gently._

"_Come, Ella--we've tarried here long enough, and it's time we return."_

"_No," she mumbled sleepily, merely wishing to return to slumber where she was._

"_Ella, I've imbibed much ale, and I haven't the patience for your stubbornness. Now, come." Her eyes blinked open, and she gazed up at him with pouty lips and a hostile stare. _

"_Sometimes, I don't like you very much," she said grumpily._

"_Yes, well, you'll thank me in the morning when you wake in your warm bed instead of on a cold bench in a tavern."_

"_I suppose you're right," she admitted grudgingly, annoyed with him._

"_Of course I'm right," he said with a cocky grin._

"_And arrogant, too," she retorted as she took his proffered hand. She started to follow him out, taking hold of his arm at the elbow, only to draw up short when they reached the door._

"_Ella, what is it?" _

"_It's so dark," she murmured softly._

"_Well, of course it has--night fell many hours ago," he said impatiently. He looked at her questioningly, waiting for an explanation of her reticence._

"_I fear the darkness--I don't want to go out there."_

"_Why do you fear it? You've certainly never feared it before."_

"_Things are different now."_

"_How so?"_

"_I don't wish to speak of it," she replied, not wanting to tell her brother of the darkness she saw so often in their father's palantír._

"_You fear needlessly, Ellemir. Now, come. If I don't have you back home before dawn, Father will surely hear of it, and then the both of us will have to sit through his lecture. And I'll have the wonderful luxury of being hung-over through the entire ordeal," he said dryly. _

"_Boromir," she whispered, her eyes imploring as she stared up at him. Finally understanding the depth of her fear, he gripped her shoulders and gazed at her seriously._

"_Ella, I'll be right by your side. Nothing will harm you." She gave him a fearful nod, and he smiled encouragingly at her as he pulled her close to his side, his powerful frame shielding her as he led her out into the night._

He had kept his word, and she had arrived safely back to her own room. Afterward, though, she had been much more careful. She made no more trips that required her to be outside in the darkness alone and without light. _Granted, I didn't think of that when I set out after Éomer. It was good fortune that Éomer found me when he did, for I don't know how I would have lasted otherwise. _She tried to tell herself that there was nothing to fear from the darkness--Boromir had shown her that--but she had a sinking feeling that her best attempts at convincing herself were falling short. There was no other choice, however. Darkness was her only hope of escape.

* * *

"My lord." The subtle underlying urgency in Darufin's voice compelled Éomer to look up from the ale he was nursing to see Darufin striding towards him carrying someone over his shoulder. "Something is amiss in Rohan," Darufin said, kneeling to set his burden down. 

Éomer's eyes widened in shock and alarm as Darufin's burden was revealed as none other than Faramir. Both men were stained with blood, although Éomer could tell with a glance that it wasn't Darufin's, and his brow wrinkled, deeply concerned for the young Steward.

"You two," Éomer called, motioning two guards forward. "Take him to the healer immediately." The two men hurried forward, carefully lifting the injured steward and hurrying toward the door. Darufin waited until they had reached the doors before turning back to Éomer.

"Judging by his garb, he is not of Rohan, Éomer King, but the manner in which I found him suggests ill tidings. He was surrounded by many foes when I found him, but I recognized them not."

"Was there any sign of his companion?" Éomer asked, grabbing Darufin by the collar of his tunic and pulling him forward. "Speak, man!"

"Perhaps if I knew of whom you speak, I would be able to give you the answer you seek, my lord," Darufin said calmly.

"That man is the Steward of Gondor, Ellemir's brother. They left together before dawn, and if he is here, then we must wonder where she is. So be certain, Darufin--was there any sign of Ellemir where you found him?" Éomer said dangerously, his burning gaze belying the anger beneath his quiet tone.

"My apologies, my lord, but I cannot be certain. He was alone among enemies when I came upon him. I saw nothing of Lady Ellemir, for I knew not she was supposed to be with him."

"Why did you not scout the area?" Éomer asked, his frustration beginning to seep into his voice.

"Lord Faramir's injuries were such that I did not think it wise, my lord. I felt it more imperative that I bring him here to have his wounds tended."

"Did these unknown enemies speak of their purpose?" Éomer asked, hoping to learn something that could tell him of Ellemir's whereabouts.

"No, my lord. Only the usual taunts that warriors trade before battle."

"Where are they now?" Éomer asked anxiously, hoping he could gleam some sort of information on Ellemir's whereabouts from these foes.

"Dead, my lord. I may have been overhasty in killing them all," Darufin answered calmly. Éomer struggled not to berate the scout, knowing that he himself would more than likely have done the same. His worry for Ellemir, however, became barely concealed anger, and Éomer lashed out, knocking his forgotten ale to the floor and slamming his fist down onto the table.

"We have no time to spare. Garulf!" he yelled.

"I think he's in the stables, Éomer King," a brave esquire said hesitantly, not wishing to anger the king further.

"Then send someone to find him--tell him to gather my éored," Éomer replied, feeling his frustration mounting, even as the young boy ran to do his bidding.

"My lord," Darufin cut in, "the éored is not at full strength. You sent half of the men to search for the thieves that set fire to Edoras."

"Then gather who remains!" Éomer yelled, his temper finally exploding. He shoved Darufin away from him. "You will lead the way--see to your needs quickly and return to the stables. We leave immediately."

"Éomer." He turned to see Éowyn standing in the doorway alongside the healer, a worried look on her face as she anxiously wrung her hands.

"What is it?"

"It's Faramir. The healer has done all that he can for Faramir, but his injuries are too grave," she said, her eyes filled with tears that she refused to shed.

"Éomer King," the healer began, "he must be taken back to the Stoningland," he said, referring to Gondor. "The healers there have skills that far surpass my own. It is his only chance."

"Very well. Éowyn, send who you will to escort Faramir back to Minas Tirith. I'm going after Ellemir, so I'll need you to remain here and rule in my stead."

"Éomer, your place is here," she said softly.

"My place is with my men. For what reason would I not lead my éored?"

"Brother, I fear that Ellemir was right--Rohan is under siege from some nameless foe, and for you to leave Edoras now would be folly. The throne must remain secure, and if you were to be killed, the survival of Rohan would be at risk. Our people need you, Éomer."

"Ellemir is missing, and you wish me to remain here, idle and useless?" he yelled in frustration. He kicked aside a chair and began to pace angrily, Éowyn remaining silent as he considered her words.

"Go with Faramir, Éowyn," he finally said softly, once more taking up his seat on the throne, and cradling his head in his hands. "When you reach the stables, send Garulf to me. I have instructions for him." Éowyn approached him with a sad smile, kissing the crown of his head before quietly hurrying from the room.

His anger spent, Éomer could only sit in silence, his fiery anger quickly being replaced with cold despair. The squire returned and quietly began to pick up the items Éomer had knocked to the floor, but Éomer stopped him with an upraised hand.

"Leave it." The boy swallowed, and nodded, silently backing away to resume a place at the wall by the door so that he would be nearby if his king had need of him. He straightened a few moments later when Garulf entered and knelt before the king.

"My lord, you wished to speak with me?"

"Garulf, I want to make myself very clear. I am entrusting the leadership of the éored to you. I don't have to tell you how vital it is that you find Ellemir. Learn what you can of those who took her if you can, but finding her is your first duty. Do whatever it takes, you understand." He paused, struggling not to show his growing sense of desperation before he met Garulf's eyes gravely. "You are not to return without her. Go in haste."

"Yes, my lord," Garulf replied reverently. He climbed to his feet and headed for the stables, leaving the king alone with his growing sense of hopelessness.

* * *

Ellemir watched the sun slowly begin to sink towards the horizon and surreptitiously glanced at her captors. Having tied her hands in front of her, they no longer saw her as a threat. _Hardly a surprise that they pay me no mind--how like men to underestimate a woman._ She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, bolstering her courage, even as the threat of failure hung over her. After ensuring that no one was watching her too closely, she inconspicuously allowed her body to tilt sideways, as though overcome by weariness. She cried out in not altogether feigned alarm as she fell from the saddle, her hip and shoulder taking the brunt of the impact as she hit the ground. She groaned and allowed her eyes to close as shouts of alarm filled the air as her captors realized she'd fallen. 

"Heolthor, see to the woman!" someone yelled, even as Ellemir congratulated herself on a job well done. _Falling is not quite as difficult as I imagined,_ she thought with satisfaction. _Of course, I've had considerable practice falling from a saddle. _She fought the smile lurking at the corners of her mouth, and succeeded in assuming a blank expression just as she was rolled onto her back. She steeled herself to remain limp and unmoving as one of her captors--Heolthor, she assumed--attempted to shake her awake.

"She won't wake, Rathgar—she must have hit her head when she fell."

"There's no way to rouse her?" the one called Rathgar asked, coming over to crouch down beside Ellemir and Heolthor.

"Not unless one of us is part-Elf and not telling. It's either stop for the night or carry her along behind one of us," Heolthor replied smartly.

"What do you suggest?"

"Well, I don't relish dragging her along if that's what you're asking. But I don't want to be the one to tell Roane. He won't be pleased that we delayed. He has plans for this one, you know."

"So we'll tell him that we did it to prevent further injury to her. Women are fragile--he can't fault us for that," Rathgar reasoned. Heolthor considered for a long moment, during which Ellemir prayed that he would agree with Rathgar.

"Well I suppose it will allow the others to catch up with us," Heolthor said slowly. "It's taking them longer than we expected to handle the man who rode with this one." Ellemir barely managed to stifle her gasp of alarm, more worried than ever for her brother at Heolthor's words. But she hardened her heart, for well she knew that if her ruse failed, more than her brother was at risk.

"Do you suppose something has gone wrong?"

"No. More likely that fool Haethric tarries."

"Perhaps we should send someone after them," Rathgar suggested, but Heolthor shook his head.

"And delay even more? No, Roane may accept that we stopped for the woman's safety, but if we were to delay further, he'd have our heads for sure. He's not a patient man, and I'm not inclined to try him further."

"Very well," Rathgar said with a sigh, coming to his feet. "We camp here for the night," he yelled to the remaining men. "Just leave her there and help us set up camp, Heolthor."

"Should we have someone guard her?"

"No. She is no threat to us, Heolthor. Or are you frightened by a mere woman?" he teased. Annoyed, Heolthor stood and walked past Rathgar, shoving him aside even as the other man laughed in amusement and followed.

As their footsteps receded, Ellemir released a breath she didn't even know she was holding and her body slowly relaxed. She risked a quick peek at the sky, knowing that it wouldn't be long now. She desperately wanted to sleep, but she was worried that she wouldn't wake up in time. _No, best to stay awake. There'll be time enough to rest once I'm away from here._ And so, she lay still, waiting for darkness to fall.

* * *

A/N: Ok, so this is sort of a bridge chapter, but it's a necessary evil. At least I have a long flashback scene…of course, for those of you who aren't so fond of flashbacks, that may not be such a great thing. Oh well…stay tuned for later chapters. 

**OnceRemembered:**Thanks so much for the lovely compliments! I'm glad you like my fic. I work really hard on keeping Éomer in character, because it just wouldn't be as good if his personality didn't fit the original. And I'm glad you enjoy Ella's sense of humor—she makes me laugh, too. Granted, I'm the one coming up with what she says and does, but somehow, I find myself laughing anyway. Anyways, hope you enjoyed this chapter, and thanks so much for reviewing!

**ModestySparrow9:** Yeah, I really don't know where the philosophical nature of the last chapter's flashback came from…I don't usually sit down with a plan on these chapters, so whatever comes out is sort of what I go with. Anyways, I'm glad you liked it. Even though your questions concerning the fates of Ella and Faramir weren't really answered, I hope you enjoyed this chapter nevertheless. Let me know what you think of the flashback! Thanks, as always, for reviewing!

**mimishell: **So, are you saying that my other chapters were slow? LOL. As far as Éomer's reactions go, you know me so well--if you didn't catch those little things that are so "Me," then you wouldn't be one of my best friends, now would you? I'm glad you enjoyed my stint into the philosophical nature of things--so not what I would typically write, but it sort of just happened, so I went with it. Granted, Faramir didn't get great "air time" in this chapter, but at least he's alive, right? LOL.

**Artemis Darkclaw:** I'm glad you enjoyed the last chapter. As far as the flashbacks go, do you like the more Boromir-centric ones or the ones that include Faramir? I've noticed my tendency to write the former, and I wonder if it's not so great for the story to exclude Faramir. I'd love to know what you think. Anyways, thanks for reviewing for me!

**Mesphia**: As far as Faramir goes, he's hanging in there, so don't worry--you won't have to hurt anyone just yet. Glad you liked the last chapter and I always love to hear that people enjoy the flashbacks, because they're the most fun part of each chapter to write. And ok, so I didn't give you a tremendous amount of information as far as the elusive foe is, but serious brainstormage has led to some interesting ideas that I'm going to start bringing together in the next chapter. So, stay tuned for that, ok? Thanks for reviewing!

**wondereye: **You know, I think the whole denial bit on Éomer's part just goes hand in hand with him being male. And I see Ella as someone who is always just on the edge of disaster, but the fun is in seeing how she gets out of it. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and thanks for reviewing!

**plzkthx101**: I was really touched by your compliment--it's nice to know that someone realizes how difficult it can be to write in a less modern way. Sometimes, it sucks not to be able to write something because I can't get it out of a modern context--LOL. Anyways, thanks so much for the praise you sent my way, because it really makes writing this fic worth it. Hope you liked this chapter as well, and thanks so much for reviewing!


	12. Chapter 12: The Folly of Men

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

A/N: Sorry for the long wait everyone—I've got so much work to do and not enough time to do it! I'm doing the best I can to post, but it's still taking eternity. Just hang in there with me, ok?

Chapter 12: The Folly of Men

Ellemir cautiously opened her eyes, blinking anxiously to adjust them to the darkness of night. She glanced around warily with a narrowed gaze, gauging her surroundings nervously. She looked to her captors, who lay asleep around a dying fire, relieved to see that no one was stirring at the moment. Rolling onto her stomach, she watched closely to see if anyone had taken notice. But no one moved as she slowly rose to her hands and knees, and biting her lip, she slowly began to crawl towards the darkness beyond.

She neared the edge of the firelight and started trembling, wondering if she would have the courage to finish what she'd started. _Be brave and do not despair,_ she told herself, shakily edging forward, still on her hands and knees. One of the horses nearby shifted nervously, alerted to her presence, and Ellemir paused, turning a speculative gaze on the cluster of horses ignored by their sleeping masters. She toyed with the idea of taking one, but just as quickly discarded it as she considered the utter foolishness of a terrible rider such as herself trying to escape on horseback. _And_ n_ever mind how highly visible I would be on the open grasslands of Rohan were I to take a horse. But yet, I may be able to make some use of them after all_, she thought as her mind began to contrive a clever plan.

She eased up next to the horses and slowly rose to her feet, warily watching the men for signs of waking as she slowly gathered the reins in her bound hands. The rope around her wrists made it difficult to tie the horses' reins together in pairs, but she managed as best she could, knowing she hadn't the time to try and loosen the rope.

Ellemir slowly led the horses away, praying that no one would hear her. The softened grass would muffle the sounds of the horses' hooves striking the ground, but she didn't want to take any chances. The risk, she knew, was great, but she was also well aware that successfully leading the horses astray could well prove to be just the distraction she needed to divert attention away from her. _Of course, there is the added benefit that they will be slowed down considerably should they choose to pursue me. Well I know that a horseless rider won't make it far. They'll have to round up the horses first. _She wished she could keep one of the horses with her, so she wouldn't be alone in the dark, but she knew it would be folly.

She led the horses a considerable distance away before she released them, sending them scattering in three different directions. _Now, anyone trying to track me will assume I'm on horseback_, she thought with satisfaction. _And_ _their pursuit will be made all the more difficult when presented with so many tracks, each going in a different direction_. She watched the horses for only a moment before turning on her heel and running in the opposite direction, hoping that the men would remain asleep and oblivious for just a little while longer.

* * *

The further she ran, the more her fear began to grow. She ran as fast as she could, wishing she could outrun her fear as readily as she outran her captors, but the fear continued to crowd in on her. She wanted nothing more than to escape, to hide somewhere safe and warm, where the darkness was no more. _Daylight will come soon,_ she told herself bravely, trying to boost her waning morale. But just as quickly, her heart sank at the realization that daylight would not bring her the salvation she so desperately wanted, for dawn would bring with it pursuit as her captors discovered her missing. 

She began to run faster, hoping that she was at least running in the right direction. _My sense of direction is certainly nothing to be proud of, but I should hope it sufficient enough to at least get me back to Edoras._ Although she was none too eager to add to her anxiety, she found herself desperately beginning to worry for her brother. When faced with the realization that her remaining brother could very well be dead, her own troubles no longer seemed quite so important. Her fear for Faramir served to block out her other fears, until all she felt was her worry for him, the fatigue in her muscles, and the burning of her lungs.

* * *

The chill of dawn brought with it a bitter reality, as Rathgar discovered upon waking. Perhaps it was the brisk cold air that had kept him asleep, wrapped securely in his blanket, oblivious to what was happening. But all too soon, the world intruded on his once peaceful sleep… 

"Rathgar, rouse yourself, man!" The insistent voice brought Rathgar grudgingly awake, and he rolled over to see Heolthor staring down at him with a combination of worry and annoyance on his face.

"What is it?" he asked groggily.

"You just wouldn't listen, and now she's gone," Heolthor stormed angrily, glaring down at him.

"Your words mean nothing, Heolthor! Speak plainly!"

"The woman—she's gone, Rathgar! And so are the horses, every last one of them!" he yelled angrily.

"WHAT?"

"I knew we should have taken turns watching her, but you said she'd be no threat to us! Well, now look—we're stranded without a thing to show for it! No horses and no woman!" Heolthor ranted, his eyes flashing with fury.

"Roane is going to kill us," another man broke in, cutting off Rathgar's reply. "We've got to find her."

"We've got to find our horses first," another argued. "We won't make it far on foot."

Rathgar held up a hand for silence as everyone started talking at once, needing a moment to consider their options. "Osric is right—our first order of business is to find the horses. News of the woman's disappearance will certainly have spread to their king's ears by now, and there will be patrols sent out to search for her. We can't afford to be spotted by the king's men, not now."

"So what are you saying? We find the horses and forget about the woman?"

"Yes. We don't have any choice. Without the horses, we are at risk of capture. Better to go back to Roane now than to fall into the hands of the king before Roane's plans come to fruition. He'll understand," Rathgar said boldly.

"Don't fool yourself into thinking he'll take the news well, Rathgar," Heolthor remarked coldly.

"Well, what do you suggest? Do you know of another way?"

"No," Heolthor grudgingly admitted. "You're going to be the one to tell him, though," he finished.

Rathgar paused, considering the news before frowning, because he knew well enough how Roane reacted to bad news. _He will hear the news, and things will go badly for me,_ Rathgar thought, but there was no alternative, he knew. He would have to tell Roane.

* * *

She didn't know how long she ran before the sun tinged the sky a brilliant array of orange and gold as it started to rise, and quickly she realized she needed to find somewhere to hide. Spotting a cluster of boulders not far from her she hurried towards them, hoping to find a sharp edge amidst the rocks that she could use to cut the ropes around her wrists. Her arms and shoulders ached from the odd way she had been forced to hold her body while running with her hands bound, and she desperately hoped to find some way of cutting the rope. 

But when she finally nestled herself in between several of the rocks, her desire to free her hands disappeared as all of her fear and worry came back to her, and she struggled not to give in to tears. She felt lost, afraid, and weary, and the loneliness that ate at her made it all the more difficult to stay strong.

_Boromir, I miss you so. It was not supposed to be this way. You and Faramir were supposed to stay with me._ A choked cry escaped, and with that, she found that she could no longer hold back her grief and her fear. Sobs racked her petite frame as she poured out her emotions, crying for a brother who was lost, for another who could very well be lost to her also, and for herself, scared and alone. Memories of a day so long ago assailed her and she sobbed all the harder, because it was so much worse to be alone now, because Faramir was not by her side to lift her heart up above her sorrow…

"_Don't go, Boromir! I don't want you to go!" she cried, throwing herself at her brother frantically. He knelt down to catch her as she threw her arms around his neck and clung to him with all of the strength her slender nine-year-old frame could muster, desperate to prevent him from riding away to fight the Corsairs. _

"_Ella, I have to go—it's my duty," he said gently._

"_Ellemir," Denethor's cut in, his dark figure appearing behind them, "Come away from him and leave off this disgraceful behavior—you shame him with your reprehensible display of emotion," he sneered. Boromir winced inwardly at his father's words before he gently pried Ellemir's arms from around his neck and looked at her tear-streaked face with a loving gaze._

"_Sister, I'll return soon, and all will be well."_

"_But you could get hurt," she sobbed._

"_But Ella, am I not the most skilled swordsman in Minas Tirith?" he asked her with his familiar cocky grin._

"_Yes," she mumbled tearfully._

"_Then there is nothing to fear," he said lightly. _

"_Ellemir, I will not tell you again," Denethor said coldly. At her father's harsh words, her eyes filled with fresh tears and her arms fell to her sides limply. Boromir kissed the top of her head and stood, mounting his horse nimbly as Ellemir ran to Faramir for comfort. _

_Faramir had stood in a nearby corner, silently watching his brother and a small company of the Gondorian Guard prepare to leave, but now he held his sister's sobbing form as once again, their father proved his lack of regard for the feelings of his younger children. Faramir schooled his features to show nothing of the anger he felt toward his father, a skill he'd learned from a young age but one Ella had never fully grasped. He pulled her into the protective curve of his arm and led her away in the direction of the citadel. He helped her up onto a low wall and together they sat and watched silently as Boromir rode away._

"_Faramir," she whispered, "Boromir will always leave, won't he?"_

"_Yes. It's his duty."_

"_Will you leave, too?"_

"_Only if I must," he answered softly._

"_Promise you won't leave me," she pleaded, her eyes gazing up at him imploringly._

"_I can't, Ella. We don't know what the future holds, and to make a promise I can't keep would be wrong of me," he said wisely, shaking his head regretfully. _

"_I don't want you to leave me, Faramir," she said sadly, tears trickling down her face._

"_I don't want to leave you, either," he said, thoughts of leaving his sister at the mercy of their father causing him to frown. _

"_If Boromir is gone, and you're gone, then I'll be all alone. I don't want to be alone," she cried, hugging him around the waist. _

"_It is the way of things, Ellemir... But Mother once told me that even when people go away, they're never truly gone."_

"_They're not?"_

"_No. Because you carry them with you in your heart."_

"_I don't understand," she said, frowning up at him with confused eyes._

"_Well…" he thought, considering how best to explain something that he himself struggled to understand, "Even when Boromir is not here with you, you still remember how much you love him and how much he loves you, yes?"_

"_Uh-huh."_

"_So, he's still with you then, because how you feel about him is the same when he's here as when he's gone. All you have to do is think of him and you'll feel the way you feel when he's around." Ella was quiet as she considered his words intently before nodding slowly. _

"_I still like it better when he's here, Faramir," she murmured forlornly._

"_So do I, Ella. So do I. But I'll stay with you for as long as I can."_

"I wish you were here now, Faramir," Ellemir murmured as she pushed away thoughts of that day. "I don't want to be alone," she whispered softly, feeling more than ever the keen sense of loss that was pervading her heart.

* * *

At Garulf's signal, Darufin climbed wearily to his feet once more, their all too brief pause not enough to renew his flagging strength. The sun was beginning to rise, and Darufin could see his own weariness mirrored on the faces of the others. But having ridden all the previous day with the wounded Faramir, Darufin was more exhausted than most, and it was all he could do to stay on his horse as they once more picked up the trail of the mysterious riders. 

Garulf rode up beside him, regarding Darufin with grave concern, and Darufin lifted his head, silently questioning Garulf's appraisal of him.

"Darufin, your weariness betrays you."

"I am not so weary that I cannot do what my king asks of me, Garulf."

"Perhaps. But if you remain here for rest, you could catch up with us before the sun peaks," he suggested quietly.

"No. There will be time enough for rest after Lady Ellemir is found." With that said, Darufin turned away, his head held high as though daring Garulf to question his strength further. The journey was marked by continual stops and starts, as they followed the trail of the enemy only to be forced to stop when the trail went cold. At these times, Darufin would once again dismount and search the ground painstakingly until he once again discovered the enemy's direction.

As the sun burned hot over their heads, Darufin once more lifted a hand, bringing the eored to a standstill as they watched him silently peruse the ground.

"Something happened here," he murmured. He studied the ground, noticing the various treads from both man and horse, finally noticing a faint trail in the dust, almost hidden in the midst of the much larger prints. He smiled, a small lifting of the corners of his mouth, as he realized that it could only be Lady Ellemir's. It was their first sign that she was, in fact, alive.

Confusion followed quickly on the heels of his relief as he struggled to discern her path among all the others. The ground was covered in tracks, each leading in different directions in a confused manner.

"What do you see, Darufin?" Garulf asked softly.

"There was some disturbance here. The trails here cross over one another, as though everyone was in a state of panic or disarray." He began to follow one path, only to lose Ellemir's footsteps in the process, and he quickly backtracked. He looked up to see several of the men began to dismount as though to help him, and his eyes widened slightly in alarm. "No, do not!" he yelled. "I do not know yet which way the Lady Ellemir went, and you may mistakenly erase the paths with your own. Stay where you are!"

And so, as the sun continued its course through the sky, everyone waited as Darufin silently followed path after path with sweat trickling down his face, leaving streaks in the dust that coated his features. Finally, he straightened, and looked up at Garulf, squinting against the bright sunlight.

"She is clever, the Lady Ellemir," he said with admiration. "But I know which way to go now."

* * *

The sun was beginning to drift down in the sky and the men continued to follow Darufin's lead over the plains of Rohan. He had been crouched low to the ground for so long that it came as a surprise to everyone when he suddenly straightened, weaving a bit from weariness, as his eyes scanned the horizon. "There," he murmured, pointing towards a mound of boulders in the not-so-far distance. 

Mounting his horse swiftly, he led the way towards the boulders, the other Rohirrim at his back as he sped across the ground, the bracing wind in his face breathing new vitality into him. The others followed just as quickly, anxiously wanting to find Lady Ellemir and return home.

Darufin reached the rocks first and dismounted nimbly, climbing up onto the boulders with the swiftness of one who has had many years of practice. He smiled as he beheld a sleeping Ellemir nestled down between two rocks. She was a small woman, for only one of her stature or smaller could have fit into the tight crevice. _No man could have done this,_ he thought contemplatively.

"My lady," he said quietly. Ellemir started, her eyes opening with a cry of alarm before she realized who he was and smiled in relief.

"I am very much grateful to see you, Darufin," she said tearfully. He smiled faintly and reached out to help her climb out of the niche she'd found for herself. "My brother—know you what has become of him?" she asked anxiously as he crouched and shifted his weight in order to reach her more readily.

"Lady Éowyn rides with him to your homeland for aid. He was gravely injured but still alive when the eored departed," he replied. It was small comfort to her, but she basked in the hope his words offered nevertheless, grateful that her brother was still alive.

"Is Éomer with you?" she asked as he eased her out and pulled out his knife to free her hands.

"No, milady. He awaits your return in Edoras." Her face fell at Darufin's reply, her joy at being found somewhat dampened by the realization that Éomer had not come for her. _I had hoped he would not be angry with me for leaving, but perhaps I have underestimated his wrath. _

"Are you hurt?" Darufin asked, breaking into her thoughts. It took a moment for his words to register, and she paused before shaking her head.

"No, Darufin, I am uninjured. 'Tis only hunger that pains me," she answered softly, trying to smile at him despite her dejection. She turned, rubbing her wrists where the rope had been tied as Darufin led her to the edge of the rock they stood on.

"Lady Ellemir, think not that the king did not wish to come for you himself," Garulf said comfortingly as he raised his arms to lift her down to the ground. "His duty to our people was all that kept him away, for he is very anxious to see you, my lady."

"Is he?" she asked shyly, hope blossoming in her heart as Garulf led her to where the others were setting up camp to rest at last.

"We were not to return without you," he said seriously as he handed her something to eat. "Darufin, come and eat," he said suddenly, noticing the scout start to walk away from everyone.

Darufin started to argue, but then seemed to reconsider and approached with an abrupt nod.

"My lady, if you will, might you tell us how you came to be captured?" Garulf asked her as Darufin sat down across from him.

She frowned, toying with her food as she considered how best to answer him. She did not wish to tell him that her visions had led her to flee Rohan without Éomer's knowledge, or that her brother's injury and her capture were her fault. After considering her words carefully, she briefly told him what she could of the attack, omitting her reasoning for leaving Rohan.

"Know you anything of your captors?" Garulf asked, uncomfortable with the lack of information on this new foe.

"Not much more than I saw…," she said trailing off. "They were not dressed as men of Rohan," she recalled, struggling to remember anything that could prove useful. "Oh, there was one named Heolthor and another known as Rathgar. It seemed as though Rathgar was in charge, but he deferred to another, one they spoke of with considerable fear. But I did not see this man."

"The other—know you his name?" Garulf asked curiously.

"They called him Roane." At the sound of the name, Darufin's head lifted abruptly as he looked up, a spark of recognition in his eyes for a moment before disappearing almost unnoticed behind his usual stoic façade.

Ellemir gazed at Darufin questioningly for a long moment, but he stared back at her dispassionately before coming to his feet.

"If you have no further need of me, I will go rest now," Darufin said quietly, the statement directed toward Garulf.

"You have done well for us this day, Darufin, and you have earned your rest this day," Garulf said with a nod.

"You have my thanks, Darufin," Ellemir said softly.

"I do not need thanks—I do my duty, and I do it proudly," he answered, turning his back and walking away, laying down in the grass on the outskirts of the camp, not bothering with a bedroll.

"He is not a man who takes compliments well, is he, Garulf?"

"One doesn't need visions to see that, my lady," Garulf replied with an answering smile.

* * *

As the camp fell silent, Ellemir rolled onto her side, nervous now that the sun had fallen once more. Her usual anxiety had returned as darkness had cast its shadows over the land, and after having slept most of the day away, Ellemir knew that sleep was unlikely to come to her. 

She shifted once more under her blankets when a sudden flash of movement caught her eye. Her eyes widened and she sat up, her eyes straining in the dark to see what had caught her attention. Pushing the blankets aside, she climbed to her feet and hesitantly walked forward, careful not to slip over the sleeping forms on the Rohirrim surrounding her. _Who could be moving about at the edge of the camp? Did Garulf order someone to keep watch?_ As she neared the edge of the dying campfire, she hesitated for a moment before taking a deep breath and plunging ahead, her hands clenched tightly, betraying her fear.

The darkness seemed to surround her and she began to tremble, her breath coming in short, quick gasps made all the worse by the thought that she could have saved herself from much fear had she simply woken Garulf instead. She stumbled, throwing her hands out to catch herself as she began to fall, but a pair of strong arms shot out of the darkness and caught her before she hit the ground.

"My lady, you shouldn't be wandering about in the dark—it's not safe."

"Darufin," she breathed, relief filling her as she recognized the scout's gruff voice even as her eyes adjusted enough to make out his features in the dark. "I thought I saw something—someone stirring in the darkness…"

"Only me, my lady." It was only after he answered that she realized he was fully armed, his cloak wrapped securely around his shoulders, and she frowned.

"Darufin, are you preparing to leave?"

"Yes."

"But, why?"

"I cannot stay here. There is something I must do ere I return to Edoras."

"Surely you aren't going off unaccompanied?" she asked in dismay.

"This task is for me alone, Lady Ellemir, and no one must know of it—say nothing." With a quick nod of farewell, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the darkness, leading his horse behind him.

Ellemir worried her bottom lip as she slowly felt her way back to her bedroll, debating over whether or not to wake Garulf and tell him of Darufin's departure. Concern and indecision ate at her before she finally came to a decision. _Secret departures bring ill consequences—I've learned that lesson well. Forgive me, Darufin, but I must tell them. I fear some misfortune may befall you if I say nothing... I will give you until dawn, and then I will tell Garulf._ By then, she knew, there was little anyone could do to stop Darufin, but at least her conscience would be clear. She could only hope that his luck would prove more advantageous than her own.

* * *

A/N: Ok, so someone pointed out that we're not supposed to respond to reviewers in our chapters, but I love responding to everyone who's taken the time to review for me. So I thought about it and decided to take the risk. 

**Mesphia**: Sorry I scared you about Faramir there—lol. I know he wasn't in this chapter much, but he'll be back, most likely in the next chapter. Anyways, glad you liked the flashback and Eomer's moment of outrage. Thanks for reviewing!

**plzkthx101**: I appreciate you warning me about doing exactly what I'm doing now, but I took a look at the guidelines, and I really think it's okay…it's all in the way it's worded…it looks as though they merely don't want us uploading author's notes as actual chapters, that's all. Anyways, thanks for taking the time to warn me though. Let me know how you liked the chapter, though!

**wondereye**: Yeah, I wasn't planning on Éomer staying behind either, at first, but then after much thought, I decided the whole reunion between him and Ella would be much better if I did it this way. Anyways, glad you liked the last chapter, and let me know what you think about this one!

**Shana**: Glad to hear that my OC/extra sibling is working out…I don't read a lot of other fics where they do this sort of thing—lack of time—but I'm touched that you think it's going well. I hope you stay hooked, despite how long it's taking me to upload. Thanks for reviewing!

**Artemis Darkclaw**: Ok, so I managed to get Faramir back into the flashback—hooray! He's going to be back in the story—hopefully in the next chapter, so don't worry too much. Expect more from Darufin, because I've got plans for him. Thanks for the compliments and for reviewing!

**mimishell**: Since you read this before I uploaded, I don't know if you'll actually read this note, but oh well…I'll just call you and tell you to read it---haha! As far as Darufin goes, I've got great plans for him, and I'm definitely having a good time making him into, how did you put it—a badass. So, Ella's a slight nut, huh? LOL. And of course, Boromir's a perfect brother—could he be anything less? But I gave your boy some nice moments in this chapter, didn't I? Yes, I'm a horrible tease about those bad guys, but you'll find out in the next chapter. And yeah, I have the random moment where something feminist slips out—I can't help it—LOL. Anyways, as always, thanks for reviewing for me, and for reading over this ahead of time!

**madrone**: Welcome! Since you're joining my fan base, does that mean you'll review often for me? LOL, JK. I'm glad you're enjoying the story, and as far as Ellemir's stubbornness goes, I imagine she gets that from Boromir. Haha! Anyways, thanks for reviewing! Hope you like this chapter!

**Soccer-Bitch**: I'm glad you're liking my story so far! I'm assuming you just found the story, just based on the date of your review, so at least you didn't have to wait long for this chapter—haha! It's taking me a lot of time to write chapters, because time is short, and I happen to like writing more than one-page chapters. But I digress—glad you're enjoying the story, and I hope you'll review again! Thanks!


	13. Chapter 13: Fateful Reunions

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

A/N: Sorry for the long wait, but I'm hoping this chapter will make the wait worthwhile. Please read and review!

Chapter 13--Fateful Reunions

Faramir slowly opened his eyes, blinking to bring the world back into focus. The ceiling above him looked vaguely familiar, and he frowned as he stared up at it, struggling to make sense of what he was seeing despite the haze of pain and fever that wracked them.

As though from a great distance, he felt someone take his hand, and he frowned as he slowly tore his gaze from the ceiling to see who sat with him.

"Ella?"

"No, Faramir. It's Éowyn. How fare you?"

He stared up at her in confusion, seeing not Éowyn but his sister staring down at him.

"Ella, don't let Father know," he said, squeezing her hand frantically as he pulled her closer, staring at her with a feverish look in his eyes.

"I won't," Éowyn said soothingly, smoothing his sweat-soaked hair off his brow, even as she gazed worriedly down at him.

As Faramir sank back into a deep sleep, Éowyn looked up with concern in her eyes as Aragorn approached to examine Faramir's condition.

"He does not know me," she said, fighting back tears. Aragorn gazed back at her with sympathy as he knelt and dipped a cloth into a bowl of cool water.

"I will do all that I can to save him," Aragorn told her, gazing at her intently before he turned back to Faramir. "Has there been any news of Ellemir?" Aragorn asked her as he lay the cloth on Faramir's brow.

"No," she whispered. "I fear he won't recover if ill has befallen her," she told him worriedly. "Boromir's loss has been hard on him. He has lost everyone but her. If she has fallen…"

"His spirit is weakened by grief, but he will fight so long as his sister lives. Neither will leave the other to live alone in this world."

"She must be alright, Aragorn," she said fearfully. "I can only hope that Éomer finds her in time," she murmured as she watched Aragorn sprinkle crushed _athelas_ into the water. _Please, Éomer, find her so that he may live…_

As Éowyn looked on, Faramir remained within a restless sleep, tormented by delirium as his body fought against the fever that raged inside him. Memories crashed over him, recollections of the past disturbing his sleep—dark, nightmarish images of the darkness that began to ensnare them all…

"_Faramir, where are you going?"_

"_Father commands me to leave for Ithilien immediately," he told her quietly, refusing to look at her as he collected his things. "After the attack on Osgiliath, he thinks me incapable of holding the city. He decided it would be best to leave matters to Boromir alone and send me to Ithilien," he finished quietly, trying to hide his shame and hurt at his father's disdain._

"_But the loss of eastern Osgiliath was not your fault! Faramir, you can't go!" she cried tearfully._

"_Boromir will remain here if you should need anything," he told her impassively._

"_But he's not you," she murmured, and Faramir stilled, looking up at her as her eyes glistened with unshed tears. "I shall be alone without you, Faramir, and I have a horrible feeling that something terrible is going to happen! Don't leave me alone with Father, Faramir, please."_

"_Of course Father is no pleasure to be around, but he is harmless for all of his hurtful words. Besides, Boromir will let no harm come to you, sister," he said easily, hoping to allay her fears despite his own misgivings._

"_Boromir is too often away with his men, Faramir—his concerns lay elsewhere. Please don't go," she pleaded softly. "There's no one else." _

_He caught her up in a hug, feeling her cling to him as she so often had as a small child, pained at the thought of leaving his sister, his closest companion, behind. Only Ellemir knew the doubts that plagued him, of the pain he felt at his father's scorn, and only Ellemir could truly understand._

"_I'm sorry, sister, but know that I will return to you as soon as I am able." She began to cry in earnest then, with all the abandon of a little girl whose heart was breaking, and Faramir's own heart clenched at the sight of her sorrow._

_A noise in the door caught his attention, and he looked up to see Boromir standing in the doorway hesitantly, torn between the desire to comfort Ellemir and the unease he felt at the sight of her tears. _He never could stand to see her cry,_ Faramir thought. _It has always unnerved him.But perhaps that is not all that holds him back_, Faramir wondered distantly…Though Boromir was often rather unaware when it came to matters of the heart, even he could sense that his siblings were sharing a moment which he could not be a part of. But at Faramir's nod, Boromir came toward them, placing a hand on Ellemir's shoulder. Turning to see Boromir standing behind her, she gazed at him tearfully, her eyes imploring him._

"_Boromir, please talk to Father—ask him to let Faramir stay," she cried, and Faramir shared a look of helplessness with his older brother, neither of them knowing what to do to comfort their sister. Her distress perplexed them, for Ellemir was not prone to hysterics, and Faramir began to wonder if something more than his departure was upsetting her._

"_Ella," Boromir began, "I would speak to Father on your behalf if I thought the effort would prove worthwhile, but you know as well as I that Father does not sway from a decision once made." Boromir gently pulled her away from Faramir, wrapping a comforting arm around her as Faramir slipped his cloak on and strapped on his sword._

"_Worry not, sister—everything will be fine, and I'll return when I can," Faramir told her softly, kissing her cheek before turning to Boromir. "Brother," he said, gripping Boromir's forearm in farewell, casting one last look at Ellemir before picking up his bow and quiver and slowly walking away._

_It was eight months before he returned for a brief visit, and he sensed immediately that his absence had changed her. Though she seemed glad to see him, there was a distance in her eyes and a frailness to her that had not been there before._

"_Ella, what troubles you?" he asked her._

"_Nothing," she answered, smiling up at him unconvincingly, vainly trying to pretend that she was alright. "I'm glad you've returned. I have missed you greatly," she said, trying to change the subject. _

"_As I have missed you. I look forward to spending time with you and Boromir ere I must return to Ithilien. It has been long since we spoke."_

"_Return? Surely you're not leaving again," she exclaimed, staring at him in dismay._

"_I have duties there than I cannot neglect, Ella. I'm sorry, I thought you knew."_

"_I thought you were here to stay," she whispered. "I need you here, Faramir. Father is…" she trailed off, and Faramir sighed._

"_Father has never been easy to live with, Ella--I know that better than anyone. But he is—"_

"_It's worse now, Faramir!" she yelled suddenly, anger blazing in her eyes. As though surprised by her outburst, she stilled. "You've been away for some time, brother. You don't understand what it's like now. You don't know." She turned away from him then, walking away and leaving him to stare after her with pain in his eyes. _I wasn't here when she needed me…what madness has father subjected her to in my absence? _He looked at her, dismay growing within him as he beheld the despair in her eyes. Suddenly, the memory dissolved into darkness, and in the deep recesses of his mind, he heard his sister scream his name…_

"Ella!" He awoke screaming for Ellemir, and Éowyn quickly sought to calm him as he thrashed about in a desperate attempt to reach a sister who was not there. Grabbing Éowyn's shoulders, he stared at her with feverish eyes as his fingers bit into her flesh. "Forgive me, sister! It is my fault," he told her, gasping. "You tried to tell me, and I would not hear your words. I failed you! Please forgive me!"

"No, Faramir, you mustn't think that way," Éowyn told him desolately. "Sleep now," she told him quietly. As Faramir once more subsided into a restless sleep, Éowyn looked up at Aragorn helplessly. "I fear he grows worse. Please, Aragorn, help him."

"I have done all that I can. Now, only he can decide whether to stay in this world or depart from it," Aragorn told her softly, his blue-green eyes gazing at her in sympathy. "Stay with him, now, for he needs you." He left her alone with Faramir then, knowing that he could do no more to help the young steward so wounded in both body and spirit. _Rally your strength, Faramir, and do not give in to the darkness of despair and grief._

* * *

As the sun rose on the horizon, Ellemir bit her lip as she heard Garulf call to a passing soldier. She slowly walked forward, pondering how best to tell the older man what had transpired during the night. She had spent a sleepless night alternately worrying about Darufin, her brother, and how she was going to break the news of Darufin's departure to Garulf. But all her fretting had been useless, for she was no closer to coming up with a solution than she'd been before she started, and Faramir and Darufin's fates were still unknown. 

"Has Darufin awakened yet?" Garulf was asking the soldier as she approached, paying her no mind as he strapped his sword to his side once more.

"I'm not certain, sir," the soldier answered, pausing before his marshal. "I can go inquire if you wish," he offered, awaiting Garulf's reply patiently.

"You will only waste your time," Ellemir said quietly, her soft voice breaking in and causing the two men to suddenly notice her. Garulf frowned down at her, growing more and more suspicious as Ellemir began to fidget under his gaze.

"What mean you, my lady?"

"I'm afraid that inquiring after Darufin will do you no good--he's not here."

"Not here? Well if he's not here, where is he?"

"I cannot be certain. He went north, but he really didn't say."

"You saw him leave then?"

"Yes. He left during the night."

"Why did you say nothing?"

"He asked not to," she said softly, as she looked up at Garulf apologetically, her eyes asking forgiveness even as she acknowledged her error of judgment. "I'm sorry, Garulf, I know I should have told you, but it seemed so very important to him."

"Well, there's no help for it, now. We'll have to go on without him."

"Can we not go after him?" Ellemir asked, her eyes pleading as she gazed up at him.

"I'm sorry, my lady, but I have orders from the king himself--you're to be brought back to Edoras with all haste. We cannot tarry."

"But…" _I worry for him_. The words remained unspoken, but as they quickly quit the camp, she could only look north and hope Darufin would be well.

* * *

Darufin slowed his horse to a slow canter as he approached the small village nestled at the foot of the ridge, memories welling up in his mind before he ruthlessly shoved them away. 

As he neared a crop of boulders, he reined his horse in, waiting. A few moments later, two men left the cover of the rocks and came forward, spears aimed menacingly at Darufin.

"The king's men have no place here," one of them told him with a guarded tone.

"I need to see Roane," Darufin told him coolly. "And _you_ will let me pass."

"And why should we?" one of them asked in a blustering tone, throwing his shoulders back as he questioned the man before him.

"Because either I or Roane will kill you if you don't. Do not mistake me for a man who will allow one such as you to hinder me. Now, move aside." After traveling for days with little sleep, Darufin was in no frame of mind to banter with Roane's watchdogs.

The two men looked at one another hesitantly, trying to decide whether or not to let him pass. Finally, one lowered his spear slightly, uncertainty written all over his features.

"Very well. But we'll escort you."

"That won't be necessary. I know the way," Darufin told him, his eyes darkening as he started forward. With the confidence that was so inherent in his nature, Darufin rode his horse through the village, dismounting when he came to an opening in the cliff wall. He led the horse into a copse of trees nearby, wanting to be prepared to leave when the time came. Then he stepped resolutely into the cave entrance before him, steeling himself for a meeting with Roane.

Squaring his jaw resolutely, Darufin walked onward into the darkness, turning left when he reached the first fork in the path. He followed a series of twists and turns, his feet carrying him along without conscious thought. He knew these paths as only one who had been raised among them could, and he knew without a doubt that he would never forget the way to navigate the endless number of tunnels in the rock. One more turn, and the dark interior gave way to a torch-lit chamber where a man only a few years Darufin's junior sat propped against the wall in a roughly-hewn chair as he lazily examined a dagger he held in his hands.

The man glanced up as Darufin entered, his eyes narrowing as he watched Darufin walk towards him.

"Roane."

"Ah, so you return to us at last, Darufin. It has been some time, yes?"

"Time always did pass by slowly here," Darufin said noncommittally. "It hasn't been so long as you imagine."

"Perhaps. But why do you return wearing the garb of one of the king's lapdogs?"

"You've been busy, Roane, and word of your actions is beginning to reach the king's ears."

"And have you been whispering to him of my affairs?" Roane asked scornfully, a hint of anger entering his gaze.

"I've only just put it together myself. But do not doubt that he will know soon enough. Attempting to take the woman was foolish. You drove the spear into the hornet's nest when you sought to use her against him. The king will not be so forgiving when he discovers you."

"He will not discover me until it's too late to stop me."

Darufin raised an eyebrow at that, but did not reply, and an angry scowl came over Roane's face.

"Well, what would _you_ have me do?" Roane asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he stared up at Darufin.

"Cease this madness, Roane. Moving against the king will only get you killed. Éomer has too many allies for you to stand a chance of overthrowing him. If you stop this now, I can make sure the king knows nothing of this."

"You would have me a slave on my knees before the son of Éomund?"

"No, I would have you an obedient subject kneeling before your rightful king as I am," Darufin said quietly.

"You betray me, brother!" Roane yelled angrily, surging to his feet with fury in his eyes.

"If that is how you wish to see it, then so be it," Darufin said calmly.

"Then how do you see it?"

"I serve our king," Darufin said simply, gazing back at Roane unashamedly.

"Our king? Our _king_ banished us, or have you so easily forgotten?"

"It was Théoden, not Éomer King who banished us, brother."

"The son of Éomund is no different than his predecessor!" Roane argued, unwilling to concede.

"On this you are mistaken. Éomer King is a fair and just man, and I serve him proudly."

"And did you tell him who you were?" Roane asked mockingly, circling Darufin as he looked on with sardonic eyes.

Darufin's jaw clenched, and he didn't answer. He didn't have to.

"I wonder, brother, how your precious king would look on you if his eyes were opened to the truth," Roane mused, his voice at once both playful andscornful.

"It matters not. I would serve him still."

"You betray the memory of our father with your wretched servitude," Roane said, his voice dripping with disdain.

"Our father was a bitter, spiteful old man, consumed by his rage" Darufin told him, the first hint of anger beginning to crack his usually stoic demeanor. He could still see his father as he had been after their banishment--an old Rider, once noble and proud, who had become nothing but a well of anger, his nobility lost. "He betrayed himself," Darufin said, his love for his father having gone cold long ago.

"Speak not of him that way, brother! He was not as you say, and I will not hear your lies!" Roane yelled, growing incensed at Darufin's words.

"Deny it all you wish, Roane, but I know the truth. I watched for years while he poisoned you with his hatred. He blamed Théoden for his own cowardice, because it was easier than believing he abandoned his men. Open your eyes, Roane! He let his bitterness change him, and we paid the price for it!"

Roane lunged forward and backhanded his brother viciously, enraged that Darufin insulted his father. Before Darufin could lift a hand to retaliate, a cadre of Roane's men appeared, several of them pinning Darufin's arms behind his back.

"You will see in the end," Roane said, straightening as he stepped closer to his brother, gripping Darufin's chin tightly, forcing Darufin to look at him. "Get him out of my sight, and guard him well. We can't have him spreading news of our plans prematurely."

Darufin's eyes narrowed as he stared at his brother, even as Roane's men began to drag him back. _Fools, all of them. It is they who will see in the end._

* * *

Éowyn watched helplessly as Faramir lashed out, shaking his head as nightmares continued to assail him. Sweat drenched his hair and clothing as he continued to thrash in his sleep. 

"Faramir, please don't leave me," she murmured softly. "Let go of your guilt and your grief and stay with me," she pleaded with him. But he could not hear her.

_He and his men had been patrolling Emyn Arnen, the hills in the south region of Ithilien, for months, using a network of caves as a base from which to operate. They were taking refuge in the caves one particularly overcast day, drawing up additional reconnaissance plans in their search for the spies of Sauron._

"_Captain Faramir!" Faramir turned when he heard his name to see one of his men ducking into the disguised entrance of the caves with a hint of urgency in his voice. _

"_What is it?" Faramir asked, turning away from the map of Ithilien and Gondor lying on the table before him._

"_It is your sister, sir. We found her on the road that leads away from Minas Tirith," he began._

"_On the road? Foul creatures travel that road—does she not know of the danger? What madness would have her leave the safety of Minas Tirith?"_

"_Something goes ill with her—she's hysterical, Captain, and she won't be calmed." _

"_Why did you not bring her here?"_

"_She's panic-stricken, sir—she wouldn't let us close to her. We didn't want to harm her."_

"_No, of course, not. Take me to her," he commanded, hurrying after the man as concern filled him._

_When he reached his sister, he was dismayed to see her sitting in the dust, rocking back and forth as she sobbed, her eyes staring unfocused into the distance. _

"_Ella," he called softly, kneeling beside her and cradling her against him as he rubbed her back comfortingly. She did not seem to hear him though, nor did she acknowledge him, and worry began to assail him as she continued to cry. He lifted her into his arms easily, turning to the men who had remained with her as Faramir was fetched. "Make sure she was not followed," he ordered in a low tone. Sauron's spies were everywhere, and until he could be certain of what ailed Ellemir, he could take no chances._

_When he reached the caves once again, he laid Ellemir on the pallet that served as his bed, concerned by her lack of response. For hours, he sat by her side, watching in utter helplessness and confusion as some unknown torment held her in its grip, wringing tears from her soul. Finally, she began to calm, and Faramir took her hand, frightened by the iciness in her fingers._

"_Ella, what did you see?"_

_She stared up at him blankly, with pain the only thing apparent in her gaze. _

"_Go down to the river, Faramir, and wait there. He will come to you." She turned away from him, then, rolling onto her side where she remained with her back to him. He slowly stood, feeling a slow dread begin to fill him. He took a lingering step back, and then another, before he turned and ran, ignoring the calls of his men as he swept past them. He easily traversed the distance to the river, mindlessly dodging obstacles as his feet found the hidden route. _

_When he neared the river, he slowed, afraid to go any further now that he'd arrived. Each step seemed to get harder and harder, dread weighing him down as he walked down to the river. Spotting a boat drifting in the distance, Faramir splashed into the cold waters of the Anduin, unaware of all but the boat that had captured his gaze, drawing him closer and closer. He could not say what drove him as he waded further and further into the water, ignoring the chill of the early morning mist or the waist-high water as the boat neared. _

_At last, it was close enough that Faramir knew he had only to take one more step to see into the hull, and he closed his eyes as some nameless dread made him pause. But he knew he could not avoid this task that had befallen. Time seemed to slow as he opened his eyes and beheld the form of his brother lying before him, cold and still, his sword gripped tightly in death._

_He froze as shock slammed into him, understanding at last what his sister had seen. He did not know how long he remained standing in the water, pain washing over him at the realization that his brother's quest had been the death of him. _It should have been me that went. I was a failure to my father, and my brother was sent to his death because of it. _The agony of his repeated failures gnawed at him, consuming him from within until he screamed with the pain of it. _

As Faramir cried out once more, Éowyn felt tears falling down her face as she beheld the pain that Faramir hid within.

"Faramir, when will you realize that your guilt will be your ruin?" she murmured.

* * *

Meduseld appeared in the distance before them, and Ellemir's heart swelled with happiness as she held onto Aeofrith in the saddle. As though they all shared one mind, the Riders urged their horses into a swift gallop that quickly ate up the miles between them and the Great Hall. A horn resounded from the heart of Edoras, and the men took up a call of welcome as they returned once more to the fold. 

As they charged through the gates, Ellemir saw a familiar figure standing at the top of the stairs leading into Meduseld. She ungracefully slid out of the saddle as she hurried up the steps to meet him. He met her in the middle and pulled her to him in a crushing grip, dropping his head and kissing her deeply, as though he sought to reassure himself that she was truly there. She returned the kiss with fervor, a sense of peace and relief invading her as she was struck by the feeling that she had come home at last. Éomer cupped her face as he pulled back to look at her, and she gazed up at him with a tearful smile.

"Did they harm you?" he murmured, staring down at her with concerned eyes.

"No," she replied softly, as she leaned into him, pillowing her head on his chest. His arms came up, sliding around her waist to hold her to him, and he felt a strange stirring in his heart as he rested his cheek on the crown of her head. But it was not enough to overcome his resolve.

"Forgive me," she whispered. "I should have remained here, but I feared they would use me against you."

He was silent, and Ellemir leaned back, staring up at him with worry in her eyes when she felt him stiffen. As she beheld the sudden indifference in his expression, a tear trickled down her cheek.

"You should go and rest now," he told her, stepping back and releasing her. "I will have the eored escort you back to Minas Tirith in the morning."

"Will you not have me stay?" she asked him softly, her heart aching at his sudden remoteness.

"It is better this way," he told her, glancing down before he turned away from her.

Ellemir gazed after him in a mixture of confusion and dismay as he walked away and didn't look back. She stood there, feeling as though her heart was breaking as she looked down, tears blurring her vision.

"My lady," Aeofrith said softly, stepping up beside her as he watched her struggle to maintain her composure.

"Everything has gone horribly wrong, Aeofrith," she whispered, "and I don't know what I should do. I am meant for him, but he will not see it," she said, fighting back her tears.

"Do not lose faith, yet, my lady. I'm sure the king will realize the error of his decision," he told her gently.

_Suppose he doesn't_? she thought. But she was couldn't bring herself to give voice to the thought, because her heart would surely break if he turned her away. _Please, Éomer, do not do this._

* * *

A/N: Several people have mentioned that we're not supposed to reply to reviewers here, but I heard also that it's just a rumor…I wasn't sure, and I love responding to all of you who review, so I just responded on my profile page--you can check there if you'd like. Anyways, I hope you'll read and review! Thanks! 


	14. Chapter 14: Deep is the Struggle

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

A/N: At the suggestion of a reviewer, I'm including a brief recap, since it takes me so long to upload chapters. Hope it helps!

**Brief Recap**: _Frightened by a vision she had while in Rohan, Ellemir convinced Faramir to leave with her for Gondor, which resulted in Faramir being wounded and Ellemir being kidnapped by a mysterious enemy led by a man known as Roane. Darufin found the injured Faramir on the plains and returned with him to Rohan. Éowyn accompanied the wounded Faramir back to Gondor while Éomer's men went in search of Ellemir, who was subsequently rescued and returned to Rohan only to be told by Éomer that she must return to Gondor. Meanwhile, Darufin disappeared to meet with Roane, and his fraternal connection to Roane was revealed. But it did him no good, for Roane had him imprisoned so that the plan to overtake Rohan could continue..._

Chapter 14: Deep Is the Struggle When Hope Falters

_It wasn't supposed to be like this,_ Ellemir thought, her heart aching with despair as she began to realize that Éomer would not be persuaded to allow her to stay. _I thought that surely he would come to care for me as I do for him, but now everything is falling apart, and I can do nothing to stop it. _She fought the tears welling up in her eyes, stubbornly refusing to let them fall. _He may choose to reject me, but I will not be so weak as to let my tears fall. _ She lifted her chin resolutely, setting her jaw firmly against the sorrow that she felt as she walked toward Garulf who stood nearby, patiently holding the reins of their mount.

Éomer hardened his heart as he watched Garulf help Ellemir into the saddle. She had glanced back only moments before, hoping to catch his eye, but Éomer had averted his gaze before she saw him looking. He had never considered himself to be a man who shied away from much, but he found himself reluctant to meet her gaze. It seemed to Éomer to be the most difficult thing to look into those eyes so filled with pain, pain that he himself had caused. He knew well enough that he was the cause of her sorrow, but he also knew that there was no other way.

_The longer she stays here, the more danger she is in, and I would not see her harmed. Not if I can prevent it from happening._ But even as he watched her leave, a cold emptiness settled in the pit of his stomach, and he realized that he felt more alone in that moment than he'd ever felt. And suddenly, he knew he couldn't let her leave this way, not without saying goodbye.

"Ellemir!" He hurried forward resolutely, meeting her as she slid from the saddle and ran into his arms. Pulling her close, he lowered his mouth to meet hers, claiming her mouth in a fierce kiss. She clung to him even as he struggled with the depth of his feelings for her, knowing it was all futile. "I would not have you leave with nothing. I'm sorry it must be this way," he whispered as he lifted his head.

"But it doesn't, Éomer," she said softly, her voice pleading with him even as she stared up at him with pain-filled eyes. "You have but to say the words, and I will remain by your side."

"I cannot give you the words you long for, Ellemir," he replied tenderly, looking down at her.

"Éomer," she began, but he stopped her with a shake of his head, his eyes filled with a sea of regret.

"I cannot," he said forcefully. "Do not ask this of me, I beg you," he told her emphatically, only his eyes revealing how much the revelation of his feelings for her pained him.

Surrendering, she rested her forehead on his chest, fighting back tears even as a painful lump rose in her throat, choking off whatever she might have said. Éomer took her head in his hands and kissed her gently on the forehead.

"Go back to Gondor, Ellemir. Your brother needs you." Turning his back before he could watch the tears slowly trickling down her cheeks, Éomer struggled to suppress the growing ache in his chest at the thought of her leaving. But he had no choice, not when Rohan seemed assailed by an invisible enemy that threatened not only himself but Ellemir as well. With an inaudible sigh, Éomer brushed past the soldiers standing at attention behind him, unwilling and unable to watch any longer as she rode away into the distance.

* * *

Darufin stared at the two men who watched him, a hint of a smile on his face as he gazed back at them indifferently. He knew his apparent lack of concern for his captivity unnerved them, a knowledge he derived a certain pleasure from as he watched them nervously handle their spears, though he couldn't imagine what they thought he'd do. His hands were chained, tethered to steel rings embedded low in the wall that allowed him only minimal room to move in the cavern that served as a prison. 

Undaunted by his circumstances, Darufin closed his eyes for a brief nap only to glance up when he heard a soft voice speaking quietly to the guards. He stared at the cave entrance with narrowed eyes as a young woman with long hair the color of barley stepped around the guards, walking towards him with a sly, resolute expression on her face.

"Hello, Darufin," she said coyly.

"Theara," he acknowledged. It had been years since she'd come before him in this manner, and where once he would have received her with eagerness, he now felt nothing but coldness toward her pretenses of affection. "Why have you come here?" he asked impersonally.

"I wanted to see you," she murmured cagily, glancing away from his all too knowing gaze.

"I am not so easily fooled as that, woman—now tell me why you've really come."

"Do you think I would mislead you?" she asked, staring at him with wounded blue eyes. Blue eyes that he knew from past experience to be utterly false.

"If you thought it would be beneficial to you, of course you would. But say no more—I already have the answer to my question."

"What mean you?"

"Roane sent you here, likely to try and convince me of the error of my ways." He cocked an eyebrow at her, knowing that his instincts were likely correct in his assessment of her motivation. She went to her knees beside him, taking his hand in her own and squeezing it as she stared into his eyes emphatically.

"And was that so wrong of him? Do you begrudge me for coming to you, to show you where your true purpose lies? We need you here, Darufin! Though he is loathe to admit it, your brother needs your help. He is too impulsive and hot-tempered to lead us, but you—you are wiser and more cautious. You can bring us victory if you would but open your eyes to the truth!"

"It is you who have closed your eyes, Theara," he told her, shaking his head regretfully. "Rohan has many allies, and yet you foolishly think to fight them all and win. You merely delude yourself."

"Don't you see, Darufin? That is why we need _you_. Roane is reckless—he will lead us into a battle we are not yet prepared to win. But you can show us the way, strengthen us so that we can meet Rohan in battle and win!" she said fervently.

"Open your eyes, Theara! You cannot hope to defeat Rohan! You're not strong enough, and you never will be—it is nothing but a foolish dream!"

"What's happened to you, Darufin?" she asked softly, drawing away from him in confusion and dismay. "You've lost faith in your people."

"No, Theara. Not my people. I have never been one of you, never adopted your ways. And I will have no part in this," he concluded, leveling her with a hard gaze.

"You will abandon your own brother? Surely you can see that he needs you," she appealed to him, trying one last time to convince him.

"My brother has chosen his path, and I have chosen mine." Darufin felt a stirring of pain in his heart as he said the words, wishing that it had not come to this, but he pushed the feeling away, knowing he could ill afford such affection now. "He will rise or fall by his own hand. And make no mistake, Theara—he will fall, taking the rest of you with him. If you're wise, you will not follow him."

"He seeks to restore us to our rightful place in this land--" she began but he cut her off.

"You, Roane, and all the rest—you've convinced yourselves that the people of Rohan owe you something. Yes, perhaps they stole your land, but that was ages ago. It was a different time then, a time when the strong conquered the weak and people had to fight for all that they had, but that time is past. We must move on if we are to survive, Theara. The people cannot live off of anger and resentment. It is time to put ancient feuds aside and join the people of Rohan, before your people are no more."

"Roane is trying to do what he can to help our people take back what is ours, and you would have us turn away from him and all that we've sought? Traitor!" she said viciously, slapping him across the face. She raised her hand to strike him a second time, but he caught her arm in a sudden movement, his grip crushing as he stared at her coldly.

"Do not think to strike me again, Theara. I will not be so tolerant a second time." He shoved her arm away from him, his eyes narrowed menacingly.

"You're more like him than you care to admit," she said softly, staring up at him with a knowing look.

"You should leave now," he said with biting finality. She slowly rose to her feet and started to walk away, her features marred with regret. "And Theara?" She turned back to face him, pausing near the cavern entrance. "Don't come back here again."

She nodded and turned away once more as Darufin watched her go with cold indifference. _Your tricks won't work on me, brother. Nor will your childish games turn me from my course. Your route has been chosen, and though it pains me, I cannot follow you. _His own course chosen, Darufin shifted, settling himself down to sleep. First, he would sleep, and then, he would plot his escape. He could only hope he would be in time to warn the king.

* * *

Aragorn watched Arwen as she knelt silently at Faramir's side, looking to her face for any sign of hope that she could give. But her usually peaceful expression was not present, her gentle smile replaced by a frown of concern as she rested a pale hand on Faramir's brow. 

"Is there no hope for him, Arwen?" he asked softly, slipping unconsciously into the Elvish tongue of his youth when his eyes met her own.

"It is not only his body that is failing, Estel," she murmured. "His spirit falters as well, and I cannot heal such a wound as this. Hope withers inside him, and grief and despair threaten to overtake him."

"Will he pass from this world to the next?"

"That is not for me to say, my love. I can heal the wounds of the flesh, but I cannot save him from the torment of his spirit."

"So there is no hope then?"

"Would you give up so soon, my love?" she asked gently chiding him as she glanced down at Faramir once again. "When all hope is lost, love remains, strong and abiding. Those closest to his heart may yet help him save himself. "

Aragorn looked over at Éowyn, who sat silently nearby, worry and sorrow marring her features as she gazed down at Faramir's anguished face. Her gaze locked onto his, silently asking if there was hope for Faramir. Stepping away from Arwen, Aragorn approached her, and her eyes filled with silent despair as she beheld his grim expression.

"Do you come to tell me that Faramir is lost to us?" she asked, fighting to keep the sorrow from her voice as she stared up at him. Aragorn knelt before her, cradling her tightly clenched hands in his own as he looked into her haunted eyes.

"All is not lost yet, Éowyn. You mustn't lose faith." Her head bowed with hopelessness at his words, her own spirit beginning to waver at what seemed impossible.

"I can see no hope for him, Aragorn," she murmured despairingly, her face crumpling with anguish as she watched Arwen leave Faramir's side to approach her.

"Éowyn, do not let your heart falter," Arwen said, "for love can often save when nothing else can."

Éowyn turned to look upon Faramir's fever-wracked body and could only feel the quiet dark of despair rising to consume her, until it seemed that all that was left was an abyss of pain and emptiness.

Aragorn stared at Faramir, feeling a heavy ache fill his chest as he beheld the young captain, the brother of his former companion. Having lost Boromir in the quest to destroy the Ring, Aragorn was loath to lose Faramir as well. _Boromir was much like a brother to me, and I was powerless to save him. I cannot stand idly by and watch his brother fall as well. I owe it to Boromir to save Faramir if I can. If it is within my power, I must save him. _

He suddenly rose to his feet, driven by a sudden compulsion to act, an idea beginning to form in his mind even as he left Arwen to stay with Éowyn and Faramir. He walked briskly through the vaulted corridors, his eyes searching, even as he considered one last desperate plan. Spotting a familiar flash of white-blond hair, Aragorn called out, hurriedly approaching the lone figure standing on a balcony that overlooked the lower levels of Minas Tirith.

"Legolas!" The elf turned, offering a slight smile only to replace it with a look of concern when he beheld the worried expression on Aragorn's face.

"Do you have need of me, Aragorn?" Legolas asked respectfully, his clear blue eyes gazing intently at Aragorn as he patiently waited for the other man to continue.

"Ah, my need of you is great, my friend," Aragorn said. "Well I know how much you have done for me, but now I must ask something more of you."

"What would you have of me?" he asked serenely, cocking his head to the side questioningly.

"Hasten to Rohan with all the speed of your people and seek out Éomer. We must have news of Lady Ellemir—he will know if she has been found. If she is still missing, aid in the search for her. She must be brought back, for her brother needs her. I fear he will not survive for long if she does not come to him."

"I will go with all haste," Legolas told him with a respectful nod, "and do all that is within my power to restore her to Gondor."

"I do not wish to lose Faramir as we lost Boromir," Aragorn said softly, glancing down as the memory of Boromir's loss assailed him. "Do not tarry," he murmured, looking back up at Legolas with eyes that revealed the gravity of the situation.

With a brisk nod, Legolas left in order to prepare for his departure, and Aragorn stood on the balcony and watched him go, his hands tightening around the stone railing that lined the balcony. He could only hope that Legolas would be able to find Ellemir and bring her back in time to save Faramir, because the alternative was almost unbearable.

* * *

As the Riders continued to move ever closer to Gondor, Ellemir's grief over having to leave Rohan began to turn into anger. While she longed to see her brother, and hoped that she would find his health improving, she only grew more and more angry as she thought about how Éomer had forced his will upon her and sent her away. _For years I have stood idly by while others have sought to make decisions for me. First my father, and now Éomer…_Her hands tightened, and her jaw clenched tightly as she recalled the pain-filled memories of being forced to act against her will… 

"_Ellemir." At the sound of her father's voice, Ellemir looked up from a tapestry she was admiring to see Denethor standing in the doorway, an almost imperceptible trace of growing madness in his eyes that even Ellemir could see._

"_Yes, Father?"_

"_Come with me—I have need of you." Ellemir came soundlessly to her feet, following wordlessly as Denethor led the ways towards the White Tower. As they reached the doorway, Ellemir's steps faltered as she instinctively drew back from the heavy wooden doors of her father's inner sanctum. "Why do you hesitate, Ellemir?"_

"_You have long forbidden us to enter here, Father—forgive my hesitation, for you taught us well not to disobey you in this."_

"_Ah yes," he said absently. "No matter, now. Come with me."_

_Ellemir stepped forward, feeling a growing sense of misgiving beginning to fill her as their footsteps echoed in the shadowy darkness of the tower's interior. They came to the stairs and slowly began to climb to the upper reaches of the tower, and to Ellemir, the stairs seemed to loom before her, appearing endless. Finally, they reached the top of the spiraling stairway, and Ellemir found herself standing in a darkened chamber, a throne and a shrouded pedestal the only furnishings present. _

"_Come daughter, there is something I wish to show you," Denethor said, taking her arm and urging her forward when she showed no sign of moving forward on her own. He led her to the center of the room where the pedestal stood, stretching out his hand to grasp the shroud that covered the pedestal. The cloth slowly fell away, exposing a glossy, black orb lying in the pedestal's center, its dark exterior containing a strangely enchanting whirlpool of swirling currents. _

_Ellemir looked at her father, growing increasingly uneasy as she watched, for his eyes seemed to eagerly devour the sight of the strange, captivating globe. As she became aware of the manner in which her father seemed enthralled by the sight of the swirling mist within the globe, she sensed that beneath its alluring exterior, the orb held something far more sinister within. _

"_What is it, Father?" _

"_Some call it a palantír," he said vaguely, "but it is of little consequence. Look into its depths, my daughter, and tell me what you see."_

"_What will I see?" she asked, worried by the intensity she saw on his face as he brought her ever closer to the palantír. _

"_What shall come to pass. You may be the key to unlocking the secrets of the Seeing-stone. Look into it, Ellemir!"_

"_Father, this frightens me," she told him, shaking her head, for though she could not say why, she knew that to look into the palantír's depths would be the greatest folly. _

"_You may be able to see what the Dark Lord has planned for Gondor, and in so doing, you may be able to save us all! Would you deny your people salvation, Ellemir?" he asked viciously, his hands digging painfully into her arms as fury filled him. _He's right—I must do this, for if this offers me a way to save my people, I can do no other than to heed his wishes._ Trembling, she stepped up to her father's palantír and ever so slowly lowered her eyes to gaze into the swirling currents within its darkness. Instantly, she felt herself falling into its depths as she was swallowed up by darkness and despair, unable to escape as the palantír seemed to sweep her across time and space until she cowered under the fiery Eye of Sauron. It felt like an eternity passed while she struggled to escape, even while hope faltered._

_When she was finally able to rip herself away from the palantír's hold, she threw herself backwards, falling to the floor with a gasp as tears sprang to her eyes._

"_Tell me what you saw," Denethor urged her, lifting her up from the floor with an intense eagerness, not appearing to notice her distress in the least._

"_I saw not the salvation for our people that you spoke of," she cried. "I saw only death and despair for us all."_

"_You must try again, Ellemir, I demand it. You are the only one who can truly see what the palantír can show us." _

"_Father, do not make me do this, I beg you," she pleaded. "This can lead only to despair and madness," she told him, pleading with him to understand. But in his eyes, she saw only obsession and a growing insanity that could not be argued with, and she knew in that instant that hope was waning. No matter how she sought to refuse him, her father always overruled her, forcing his will upon her and compelling her to look into the palantír again and again. And as more and more time passed, hope began to wither in her heart, and despair began to consume her. _

Feeling the familiar sense of dread fill her once more, Ellemir cast the memories away and set her jaw resolutely as they rode farther and farther away from Edoras. _All my life, I have let others choose for me, and I have nothing to show for it except pain and loss. I vow I will have no more of it. _

When Garulf looked down to see that Ellemir's hands had become fists around his waist, he sensed that a short stop would be wise. He slowed his horse, signaling the other riders to halt. He helped Ella dismount, watching in confusion as she stormed away from him and began pacing angrily back and forth. Aeofrith looked over at Garulf questioningly, his eyes silently asking what was troubling Ellemir.

Garulf shrugged, and Aeofrith glanced over at Ellemir for a long moment, weighing the matter fully before he sighed and slowly approached her, hoping he wasn't mistaken in his decision to approach.

"My lady, what's troubling you?" he asked softly. She whirled around to face him, her eyes blazing with anger as she stared up at him, her head held high in defiance.

"I am a daughter of Gondor," she said proudly, her voice resounding with the strength of her anger. "I will not be cowed! When you ride back to Edoras, you will tell your king that I will be returning to Rohan when my brother's health is restored, and he had best prepare himself for my arrival, for I will _not _be turned away."

Aeofrith hid a smile, assuring his acquiescence with a slight bow before he turned away without a word. _Perhaps she does have the strength to stand with our king after all, _he thought, admiring her spirit in the face of all that had occurred_. Now if only the king would see it, then Rohan would once again have a queen to stand by her king. Their courtship will certainly be interesting, I've no doubt. But until then, I look forward to delivering the lady's message to the king,_ he thought with a mischievous grin. Their return to Edoras would be most enjoyable.

* * *

A/N: Hope you enjoyed the chapter—sorry for the long wait, though. It took a very long time for me to get this chapter the way I wanted it, especially the flashback. But I'm hoping it was worth it. Let me know what you think! 

**La Llorona**: Yeah, Éomer is definitely starting to figure out how much Ella means to him; now, if he could just reach the point where he wants her to stay more than he wants to protect her…

**madrone**: I'm glad you like the flashbacks of the War. I try not to dwell too long on them because I want them to enhance the story, not distract from it. Anyways, I can't really say how many more chapters I have, because I'm never sure how much will fit into a chapter. I'm sort of letting the story go where it will, but I'm thinking at least three. Probably more than that, but I don't want to promise anything. There's definitely a lot of stuff to tie up, especially with the bad guys.

**Randomisation**: Glad you're enjoying the story—thanks so much for reviewing for me, and for letting me know about the review responses!

**childoftheking**: Was the chapter recap helpful? I know it takes me forever to update, and I don't want to lose readers because they're tired of rereading to see what happened before, so I want to have helpful recaps. Sorry that you didn't find out about Faramir and Ella this time—you'll just have to find out in the next chapter! Anyways, hope you enjoyed the chapter, and that you could follow everything!

**ModestySparrow9**: Glad you enjoyed the last chapter. I love writing the sibling moments—they're so fun to write. Of course, in this chapter, I needed something a little more specific to Ella and something more serious than the usual sibling stuff. But no doubt there will be another fun sibling moment in an upcoming chapter. Thanks for reviewing, as always!

**Artemis Darkclaw**: I'm getting rather fond of Darufin myself, and what's really funny is that when I originally created him, he was simply intended to be a minor, random character. Now, he's becoming a major character, which just goes to show that one never knows where a story is going.

**wondereye**: I hope this chapter made Éomer's actions make a little more sense to you—I know you were a little put off by his decision to send Ella away in the last chapter, but I'm hoping you stuck with me. Let me know what you think!

**Aragornsgirll**: Happy to know that you like the story, and the character interactions. Let me know what you think of this chapter! Thanks for reviewing!


	15. Chapter 15: Letting Go

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

**Recap**: Fearing that she will come to further harm in Rohan, Éomer has sent Ellemir back to Gondor under the care of Aeofrith, Garulf, and company, minus Darufin, who rode off in search of his brother Roane after Ella was rescued. Roane, we learn, is behind the troubles plaguing Rohan, for he seeks to take control of Rohan. Darufin refuses to aid Roane in his quest to destroy Eomer, and Roane fears that his older brother may have revealed what he knows to Eomer, so Roane places Darufin under guard, chained in one of the tunnels of the cave network that houses his people. Meanwhile, Faramir has grown steadily worse as a result of his injuries at the hands of Roane's men, and Aragorn has sent Legolas to bring Ella back quickly, believing that only she can save her brother.

Special thanks to **mimishell** for being my beta and letting me know what she really thinks about each chapter!

Chapter 15: Letting Go

Darufin nursed the pain of his cracked ribs, trying to curl around the pain as best he could. Sweat trickled down his face as he sought to breathe past the pain of his broken ribs. Each breath brought with it more pain, and he clenched his jaw angrily, furious at his weakness.

A hind of sound reached his ears and Darufin rolled just in time to avoid a kick aimed at his midsection. Icy gray eyes gazed back coldly at the guard who stepped back with a laugh, unmindful of the promise of retaliation reflected in Darufin's dark stare.

"Roane is coming," the guard jeered, "and he's not too happy with you."

"I have greater cause to be angry with him then he does with me," Darufin answered indifferently. "My little brother has much to answer for, and answer he will," he finished, his tone darkening menacingly.

Another guard stepped forward, and together, they forced Darufin to his knees as Roane stormed inside in a hot rage, flanked by two of his men.

"What did you tell them?" Roane yelled angrily.

"I know nothing of what you speak—perhaps an explanation would be beneficial," Darufin responded stoically.

"A cadre of my men are missing, and I know you had something to do with it!"

"Why would you accuse me so, brother?" he asked with false innocence.

"Don't play games with me, Dar!"

"Oh but brother, I do so enjoy a good game," Darufin told him with a sly half-smile. Roane stepped forward, his face a mask of fury as he backhanded Darufin viciously.

"If you will not tell me by choice, you will tell me by force," Roane said menacingly, his features tight with anger as he stared down at his brother.

"We shall see."

* * *

Ellemir stared unseeingly at the fire that blazed before her, a burning beacon that shined brightly in the darkness. Worry and sadness beat at her heart as thoughts of Faramir and Éomer swirled in her mind, and she fought back the swell of tears. The sound of a quickly approaching rider reached her, and she hurriedly dashed away her tears and came to her feet. She hurried towards Garulf, standing at his side as they listened for the rider's arrival, her eyes straining to see in the darkness beyond the fire. 

"Who is it, Garulf?"

"It's too dark, and he's too far away. The sentries will question him before he gets too close and report back to me. We'll wait."

The rider reined up somewhere in the distance, obviously having reached the sentries, and tense moments passed before Aeofrith suddenly appeared out of the darkness, riding towards them.

"It's an Elf, Garulf, one sent by the High King. He calls himself Legolas, of the Woodland Realm, and he says he comes from the Stoningland to find Lady Ellemir."

"Let him approach, then."

Her excitement at finally seeing an Elf was instantly quelled as a sinking feeling grew in the pit of her stomach as the Elf approached, dismounting effortlessly before her with a grave expression.

"Lady Ellemir, it goes ill with your brother. The king sent me to return you to Gondor as quickly as possible."

"Is he dying then?" Ellemir asked tearfully, grief settling in her heart as the thought of being alone, the last of her family no more.

"Aragorn thinks he may yet be saved, but you must come quickly. We ride with all the haste of my people."

"My lady, here we must part," Garulf said kindly. "Legolas will protect you, and he will see you to the Stoningland much faster than we could." Silently, Ellemir nodded, fighting back tears as she bid farewell to Garulf, Aeofrith, and the others. Silently, she turned to Legolas as Garulf helped her into the saddle behind Legolas.

"Hold tight, my lady, for we ride with all speed," Legolas told her softly. With a final look back, her arms tightened around Legolas's waist as he murmured to the horse, spurring the stallion into a swift gallop.

As the wind whipped past them, tossing their hair, she pressed her face against Legolas's back, as tears silently fell down her face.

_Please don't leave me, Faramir—hold fast. I'm coming.  
_

* * *

Warm sunlight fell upon his face, and Faramir basked in the glow, his eyes closed and his face tilted towards the sun. He knew not how he came to be in the sunny clearing in the forests of Ithilien, but he reveled in the peacefulness, feeling as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. 

"Faramir." The familiar voice echoed warmly in Faramir's ears even as his heart swelled with joy.

"Boromir," he said softly, as he beheld his brother standing before him, clothed in white, a sad smile on his face as he looked on at Faramir. "It does my heart good to see you—I have missed you sorely," Faramir told him, stepping forward to embrace his older brother.

"No, Faramir, you mustn't," Boromir said, stepping back from him with remorseful eyes.

"You shy away from me. Have I so shamed you that cannot bear my embrace?" Faramir cried out in grief.

"Never that, little brother, never that," Boromir denied vehemently.

"Then why?" Faramir asked, desperately trying to understand.

"Because this place is not real—it does not exist. You rest upon the very brink between your world and the next. Were you to touch me, your life would cease, though it hangs in the balance yet."

"Am I not to join you then?"

"No, Faramir. Your time has not yet come."

"So I draw close to you only to be turned away," Faramir said, his voice filled with pain. "Why then do I see you before me, so close but yet so unreachable?"

"I come but to turn you from your course. You must turn back, Faramir," Boromir replied gravely, his gray eyes gazing intently into Faramir's.

"For what purpose must I remain in this life? Ella is lost to me, as you are lost to me, and I haven't the heart to continue. Not alone."

"No, brother. Ella yet lives, and she comes to you—you must live for her."

"Faramir." Ella's voice came as from far away, and Faramir looked back, indecision written on his features as he turned back to Boromir.

"My heart is torn between you both, brother. There is much to speak of, so much that I need to tell you."

"There will be time for that one day, but not this day. Go to her, Faramir—she needs you."

"I would know one thing before I go," Faramir said haltingly.

"What is it?"

"Do you forgive me?"

Confusion crossed Boromir's face as he beheld his brother's grief-stricken features.

"What is it you speak of?"

"It should have been me," Faramir said softly. "I should have gone to Rivendell in your stead, but I was too weak to stand up to Father, and you died for my weakness."

"Faramir, we all make choices in this life," Boromir told him kindly. "I made my choice—I chose to go to Rivendell at Father's request. The fault is not yours, and thus, there is nothing to forgive." All of the grief and pain that had assailed him disappeared and Faramir felt true peace for the first time since his brother's death. "Faramir, tell Ella I love her, and I shall see her again one day. Go, little brother, and be at peace."

A sudden heaviness gripped him, the pull of reality dragging him back towards consciousness. Feeling a slender hand slip into his own, he tightened his hold, grasping the delicate fingers in his own as he struggled to wake.

"Faramir?" At the sound of his sister's voice, he fought to open his eyes and was rewarded by the sight of her smiling down at him with tearful eyes.

"Ellemir," he whispered with a sigh of relief.

"You've kept me waiting for such a long time, Faramir," she chided gently. "I was afraid that you would leave me alone in this world."

"I almost did," he murmured. "Guilt and despair consumed me, and I could not escape it," he said, gazing up her remorsefully.

"Guilt? Over what, Faramir?"

"For so many things…for Osgiliath…for Boromir." He trailed off, turning away from her in shame. Though guilt was gone, shame remained as he recalled the loss of so many things he held dear.

"Brother, you were not to blame for those things," she cried vehemently. "Osgiliath fell because we hadn't the reinforcements to hold it—we were overwhelmed! And Boromir...," she said, her voice catching, "Boromir made his choice," she said softly.

"Yes, he said as much," Faramir murmured, weariness beginning to assail him.

"What mean you?"

Faramir didn't answer, staring off into the distance for a long moment before turning to her sadly.

"He's truly gone, now, isn't he?"

"Yes," she said, squeezing his hand comfortingly, saying nothing more as she watched her brother begin to face his grief.

"I can no longer carry him with me," he choked out, "I haven't the strength for it anymore." At the sound of his voice breaking, Ella's own eyes filled with tears as she cradled his hand in her own.

"Boromir would not have you carry the weight of the dead, Faramir," she said tearfully. "He would want you to be happy."

"I know," Faramir said simply. "He told me there was nothing to forgive, and my heart is unburdened of its guilt."

"You saw him?"

"Yes. He bade me tell you that he loves you and that he will see you again one day. He told me to be at peace," he told her. He glanced down for a quiet moment before looking up at her once more. "He is gone from me now," he murmured finally.

Tears fell down Ellemir's face as Faramir heaved a heavy sigh, a cleansing sigh, and slowly closed his eyes, falling into a deep, restful sleep.

"Be happy now, brother, be happy," she whispered.

* * *

Darufin spat blood onto the floor, barely missing Roane's boot as his eyes met Roane's with cutting intensity. 

"You will tell me what you've done," Roane said hotly, his face flushed with anger as he beheld Darufin's reticence.

"I will tell you nothing," Darufin told him defiantly, speaking past the pain as he faced his brother impassively.

Frustration ate at Roane as his brother refused to cooperate, and his fists clenched in anger as he stared back at Darufin, growing even angrier at the lack of emotion on Darufin's face.

He brought his hand back, delivering a vicious blow to Darufin's jaw that whipped the older man's head around. He was just preparing to strike again when one of his men hurried in.

"My Lord! Rathgar and the men just arrived."

"Have them bring the woman to me," Roane said dismissively, his anger easing somewhat as one of the missing squads reappeared.

"They don't have her, my lord. They returned on foot without her."

"WHAT?" Roane roared, whirling around to face the unfortunate bearer of bad news.

Behind him, Darufin chuckled, smiling at his brother through his pain.

"They'll come for you, brother. Doubt it not. You tried to steal the king's woman, and it is a threat he will not take lightly."

"Just remember, brother, when they come for us, when they slaughter our people, that you brought this upon us," Roane bit out, his eyes dark with anger.

"No, Roane. You did," Darufin replied simply, his own eyes seeming to stare right through Roane.

"I will deal with you later," Roane bit out, turning on his heel and leaving as quickly as he'd come. Darufin's gaze shifted to Roane's captain, who stood silently by as Roane left and was now staring down at him silently.

"Do not let him go through with this—trying to take on Rohan is folly," Darufin told him.

"It's too late for that—he won't change his mind," the captain said regretfully, and Darufin knew with a disheartening feeling that there was nothing he could do to change his brother's fate. _The course is set, and now we must see it through._

* * *

To my reviewers, who have remained faithful to me, despite the fact that I suck and don't update for months at a time:**  
**

**childofthekng**: Another recap--I figured you were definitely onto something with that suggestion, so I'm going to continue to put them in.

**ModestySparrow9**: Threw in another sibling moment--Boromir and Faramir, gotta love em! Anyways, thanks for reviewing (as always) and let me know what you think!

**MookieMoodoo**: I'm glad you like the flashbacks, seeing as how they appear in just about every chapter--lol. I probably should have just written a fic that took place in the past, but oh well. Eomer didn't make it into this chapter, but rest assured he will be back with his temper well intact. As far as Ella's reaction to Denethor upon sending Faramir out, I haven't really thought about it, but I'll see what I can do. Maybe I can fit something in for the next chapter. Thanks for reviewing for me!!

**wondereye**: I've grown rather fond of Roane as a character myself, even though he's a baddie. His character development is shifting from what I originally intended--I was going to make him a sympathetic character, but that idea went right out the window as the story developed. Oh well, we still have Darufin, right? As for the flashback, I'm not sure if I'll have one with Roane, Darufin, and Theara, but we'll see. It depends on where the story goes--sometimes a flashback will work, and sometimes it won't. I noticed you mentioned something about Theara being psychic, but she's not--she's only suffering from a false idea that her people can defeat Rohan.

**Randomisation**: Thanks for reviewing--glad you liked the last chapter, and I hope you like this one as well!

**LittleIrish22**: I can't remember if I got in touch with you about the name Ella or not--I'm pretty sure I did. If not, and I'm dreaming that, I'm so sorry for not contacting you sooner. Feel free to use the name--it's no problem. I'm glad you're enjoying the story, and hopefully, you haven't lost complete interest due to my slowness at updating. Anyways, thanks for reviewing!

**ArtemisDarkclaw**: Hey thanks for the review. As much as the recaps are a pain to add in, I have to admit that they are a great help, especially considering that I go so freaking long between updates that it's a wonder we haven't all forgotten what's going on. And I'm glad you like Darufin, because he's become one of my favorite characters. He has more depth than Aeofrith, so I have a lot of fun writing his scenes. Anyways, thanks so much for reviewing!


	16. Chapter 16: The Weight of the Dead

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

A/N: Well, I'm sorry it took so long, but hopefully, it's at least long enough to make up for some of that wait. No doubt you've all forgotten what the story was even about…with that said, here's the incredibly detailed recap:

Ellemir, sister of Faramir and Boromir, has a vision that leads her to follow Éomer and his people back to Rohan after Aragorn's coronation. After Ellemir dreams of an attack on Rohan wherein she sees herself used as a pawn against Éomer, she and Faramir leave Rohan, only to be attacked by a nameless enemy. During the ensuing attack, Faramir is hurt, and Ellemir is taken by the enemy. One of Éomer's scouts, Darufin, finds Faramir and returns with him to Rohan. At the behest of Éomer, Darufin leads a party out in pursuit of Ellemir. Faramir, wounded beyond the power of Rohan's healers' abilities, is taken back to Minas Tirith, where he lingers in a feverish state, slowly succumbing to his guilt and grief. Meanwhile, Ellemir escapes the enemy and is found by Éomer's men. Before they return to Edoras, Darufin disappears, leaving to confront the enemy, who turns out to be none other than his brother Roane, who has been twisted by their father's hatred for Théoden and consequently, Éomer. Darufin is taken captive by Roane and is encouraged to join Roane and his followers against Rohan, but he refuses. Ellemir, returned to Edoras safely, ends up having to return to Minas Tirith due to the gravity of Faramir's injuries. Faramir, reunited with his sister and encouraged by a vision of his brother, finally makes peace with his demons and begins to recover…

Chapter 16: The Weight of the Dead

"…So you see, I really must leave. You understand, don't you, Faramir?"

"Yes, of course, Ella," Faramir said with a good-natured sigh and an indulgent smile for his sister, who stared at him beseechingly, her eyes imploring as she sought to reassure herself that Faramir was agreeable.

"And you're not angry?" Ellemir asked him, worriedly biting her lower lip.

"I am not so easily angered as that, Ella," he told her with an indulgent smile.

"I would not leave you before you're fully recovered," she continued, seeming not to have heard his words and trying to make certain that he understand the soundness of her reasoning, "but I saw something last night—a…friend…from Rohan—and I fear he needs help. I must make it known to Éomer."

"Sister, you need not ask for my pardon—I know well enough that your heart lies in Rohan. Go to him, sister, and give him my regards. Éowyn and I will return there as soon as Aragorn finds me fit to travel."

With one last searching look to be sure he spoke truthfully, Ella gave him a final hug, taking care not to jar his injuries, before she rushed away to gather an escort.

_I only hope I come not too late_, she thought worriedly. The sense of urgency she felt had doubled since the rising of the sun, and she knew without a doubt that Darufin's peril grew greater with every passing moment. She was certain that Darufin's torment was somehow linked to the still unclear threat to Rohan, a threat that remained elusive despite her attempts to puzzle it out or envision it. Nor was she certain how Darufin's fate

* * *

The large wooden doors of Meduseld slammed open with a bang, the sound echoing around the great hall as everyone looked up, startled. Éomer's gaze left the map he and Garulf were poring over and his hand dropped to grip the dagger he wore belted at his waist in place of his sword. Garulf moved forward to place himself between Éomer and the door even as he moved to draw his sword, but just as quickly, the tension left his large frame and he moved aside with a smile. 

"Éomer!"

A voice he'd thought not to hear again rang through the hall, the most pleasant sound Éomer had heard in weeks.

"Ellemir," he said, an easing in his heart producing a sense of peace within him as he watched her run toward him. He caught her in his arms easily, pulling her close and holding onto her tightly as her arms came up around his waist, squeezing just as tightly.

"I did not think to see you again," he said softly.

"Did you think yourself free of me so easily?" she asked him, a smile in her voice as she pillowed her head on his chest.

"I would be foolish to think that freeing myself of you would ever be _easy_," he replied in kind, a smirk on his face as he gazed down at her.

"Good. I would not have you think otherwise," she said smartly. "I do feel I should give you warning—I have no intention of leaving Rohan again, nor will you be sending me away again without a fight. I'm afraid, dear Éomer, that there is no escape—you shall not be free of me."

"You have left me with no choice, I see. I suppose, then, that I can do naught but propose marriage," he told her with a gleam in his eye.

"Well, if you must, it would be discourteous of me to refuse," she replied, the happiness in her eyes belying the haughty expression she was playing at. Her fingers ran lightly over his chest, smoothing out the wrinkles in the fabric of his tunic lovingly as she felt a sense of overwhelming joy fill her heart. _It was as I always said, Boromir—one day, my yellow-haired man of Rohan would come to claim me, and I would be complete, and at last, that day has come._

"I'm sorely glad you've returned," Éomer said softly, his playful bantering tone left behind as he lifted her chin and kissed her forehead in a gentle manner that was somewhat at odds with the his usual abrupt manner.

"I would not have stayed so long in Minas Tirith, save that I was needed. But…something happened, and I could not stay away any longer. I fear I bring dire news with me," she said, staring up at him gravely.

"Your brother?" Éomer asked, not wishing to voice his fear that Ellemir had lost the only family she had left.

"No. He is well. He grows stronger with every passing day. It is another I speak of."

"Who?"

"Darufin," she murmured.

"There has been no word of him in the weeks since you left," Éomer told her.

"Of course not," she said impatiently. "He is being held by the same men who tried to take me. It is for us to find him and free him."

"Ellemir, no one knows aught of his whereabouts. Do you not think that I sent scouts out to search for sign of him? He is a deserter, but he is also a scout, and he knew well enough to cover his tracks well—there is no trace of him."

"He is no deserter," she argued. "He left for something important, something he had to do. He intended to return, Éomer—you shouldn't doubt him so."

"He leaves in the dark, telling no one of his intentions, and asking you to say nothing. What am I meant to think?" Éomer asked tightly, feeling a sense of exasperation well up.

"You're meant to have faith in him. We need to find him."

"Be that as it may, you overlook an essential detail. It's as I told you—the scouts could find no sign of him."

"Yes, well, I don't think that will matter. I can lead us to him."

"This is folly you speak," Éomer said dubiously.

"Éomer, you shouldn't doubt simply because you lack confidence in what I see," she said chidingly.

"Do not misunderstand me, Ellemir. It's not so much your 'gift' that I doubt—it's your sense of direction. So far, you haven't exactly proven yourself capable of finding your way."

"Alone, no," she admitted. "But with my gift and your scouts to help me, we should be able to find the way. Éomer, please. I'm asking for your help," she said, her fingers tightening on his arm as she looked at him beseechingly.

"Ellemir," he began with a sigh, but her eyes flashed with defiance, leaving Éomer with a sense of the inevitable as she gazed up at him with a stubborn tilt to her chin as she interrupted him before he could begin.

"You and I have played this game before. When your wishes are contrary to mine--recall, if you will, who wins these arguments."

"What arguments?" Éomer countered. "You never argue. You simply agree with me and then do what you intended anyway."

"Yes, that's right. Now you begin to understand," she told him cheerfully, patting his cheek as though to console him.

"I cannot win this argument, can I?" he asked with a sigh.

"Not really, no. Shall I tell Garulf to ready the scouts?"

"Yes, I suppose so. I'll have no peace otherwise," Éomer said gruffly.

"You're coming to know me so well. See how easy it is just to agree with me?" she asked playfully. She kissed him then, and there was nothing Éomer could do but kiss her back.

* * *

As Éomer and his eored reined in their horses at the spot Ellemir indicated, Éomer couldn't help but feel a burst of anger at the thought of the foes that waited within the caves before them. So far, there was no sign of anyone, but Éomer knew that there would no doubt be plenty of resistance within. He dismounted, signaling his Riders to do the same. Reaching back, he lifted Ellemir down from his saddle, nodding to acknowledge his thanks for her assistance. There was no doubt in his mind that Ellemir had been true to her word and had led them to the right location. 

"Darufin is within these walls, Éomer, I know it," she murmured softly to him.

"Unfortunately, I don't think he's the only one. Rohan's enemies dwell within as well, and I fear that their number is great." He knew with a certainty that they had waited until Rohan's ranks had been decimated by the War of the Ring before emerging from the dark to make their move. He stared down at her, admiring her for a moment as she stood, small and proud, before him. Small braids framed her face, one on each side, so as to prevent her hair from falling into her face and obstructing her vision. The gown she wore was specifically tailored for shield-maidens, the calf-length tunic she wore slit open up to the knees to allow her freedom of movement and her legs encased in soft leather breeches. A Gondorian sword custom-made for her hand hung from a scabbard held by a golden belt at her waist. He pushed one of her braids behind her ear with a look of longing before turning away with a sigh, looking once more at the cave before them.

"This enemy has been left free to spread their malice, and the ranks of their army swell, even as ours dwindle," Éomer remarked to Garulf, his hands curling into fists as he eyed the numerous tunnels before them. "Spread the word that any women and children are to be herded towards the central cave. I want them unharmed, but be certain that it is understood by all that exceptions will be made for those who resist. Those who choose to fight will pay for their actions—my uncle may have been known for his mercy, but I am not."

"Yes, my lord."

"Ellemir, remember to stay close," he said, not at all liking that she had insisted on coming. But he knew that he could scarcely spare men to stay and guard her, and he knew that she knew it as well. "I don't want you out of my sight."

She nodded obediently, but Éomer had a bad feeling, and his mistrust must have shown on his face.

"What is it?" she asked him.

"Something tells me that you're going to forget your promise to stay close," he said grimly.

"Oh, so you have the gift of foresight as well, my love?" she teased, her eyes alight with humor at the disgruntled expression on his face.

"I worry for you, and you jest," he replied, frowning back at her.

"Forgive me," she said with a smile. "I shall do my best not to worry you," she told him, reaching up and kissing his cheek lightly.

Though she had professed to be quite skilled with a blade, he still wasn't at all certain of her fighting skills, and having her at his side was the only way he felt he could be assured of her safety. He watched her as she stepped forward to walk alongside Aeofrith as they slowly began to move toward the tunnels.

"Garulf," he called. Garulf moved closer, a question in his eyes at the look on Éomer's face. "Do your best to watch her," he said softly. "She means well, but I know her—she'll wander if given a chance."

Garulf nodded, and Éomer turned, signaling for his men to move in. As they moved in great number, Éomer watched them spread out for a long moment before he lead his own cadre forward, his sword ready to meet any who opposed him.

* * *

She knew she should have stayed with Éomer as he had told her, but something about the small, almost hidden, tunnel pulled at her. She hazarded a glance back at Éomer as she fought her way toward the tunnel that beckoned, only to see him busy directing his men and fighting any who were foolish enough to approach him. She bit her lip, hesitating only a moment before she turned resolutely and ran into the tunnel, her sword clenched tightly in her fist. _Stay alert, _she told herself, for though the way was clear, it was unlikely to stay as such. _They would not leave a path unguarded. No, there will be someone…_ Her prediction was soon proven true, for she hadn't gone far when a coarse man stepped out in front of her, his sword pointed menacingly in her direction. 

"Lady or no, you'll not be trespassing here," he sneered, stepping forward. "Your kind isn't welcome here, whore of Rohan," he told her, sweeping his sword in a downward swing meant to cut her from shoulder to waist. She brought her sword up, the Gondorian steel ringing mightily as her sword met his in a clash of metal.

Memories of long-ago sword lessons with Boromir suddenly assailed her, and it was as though she could hear him in her mind, calling out instructions to her. _As small as you are, sister, you'll no doubt always confront foes much bigger than you, so never let them put you on the defensive. Attack quickly before they can attack you. _Recalling what he had told her, she immediately went on the offensive, well aware that her smaller stature would not allow her to maintain a defensive position for long without tiring her. With a two-handed grip on the hilt, she swung her sword with all of her might, but he met her sword with his own, parrying the blow and knocking it aside, leaving Ellemir searching her mind for another way to overcome him.

_The fool who leaves his knees unprotected can easily be injured or slowed with a well-placed kick, little sister. Hit hard enough, and the battle may well be won without a drop of bloodshed. _She kicked out, striking the side of his knee with a blow that sent him staggering away. Though he didn't fall, he mistakenly left her with room to maneuver, and she wasted no time in raising her sword in an uppercut that allowed her to strike without leaving herself open to attack. He caught the blow with his own sword, bearing down on her, and she realized with dismay that he now had her deadlocked, his sword's hilt jammed against her own.

_Don't let yourself be caught in a deadlock, sister, for you will not win. Not against a foe whose strength and size surpass your own. _She strained against his weight, knowing that she couldn't win this way. He laughed suddenly, his dark hate-filled eyes meeting hers as she struggled against his much larger size. Staring back at him with a fearful but determined gaze, she knew without a doubt that he was well aware that she would not be able to match his effort, not locked together this way.

_Your size can be used to your advantage—you're small, and that makes you quicker. Be swift on your feet, and force your opponent to chase after you. _Knowing she had to pull away without leaving herself open to attack, she turned her wrists and dropped to the floor, ducking under him and slipping away from him. With a sweeping kick, she knocked his feet out from under him, rolling aside and quickly regaining her footing.

_Keep moving—don't give your opponent time to consider what your next move may be. _Before he could settle back into a proper stance, she darted forward once again, trying to keep him off-balance. She struck swiftly, her sword catching him along the arm, biting deep into flesh and leaving her sword wet with blood.

_If you draw first blood or land a good hit, don't get overconfident—it could well be your downfall. Always stay focused on bringing down your enemy once and for all, for an injured enemy will only pursue you with a ferocity born of anger and desperation._ She moved her sword back into a defensive stance immediately, certain that her good fortune was only going to anger her opponent, propelling him to attack with a vengeance.

"I grow tired of your tricks, woman! This ends now," he yelled, raising his sword over his head with both hands, fully intending to deliver a crushing blow that her small figure would be incapable of stopping. And that quickly, he lowered his guard.

Spotting her opening, she shifted her grip on the hilt of her sword, the blade now held like a dagger.

_When you strike, make it count. You may not get another chance._ Putting all her strength behind the thrust, she drove the sword downward, the blade tearing through his leather armor. While she didn't have the upper-body strength to propel the sword entirely through him, the force behind the move served well enough, the sword penetrating far enough to freeze him in place.

Neither of them moved, as though they were somehow transfixed in the moment, both of them staring with wide eyes at the sword that now protruded from his heart even as she gasped for air. Finally, the far away noise of battle reached her, breaking the moment, and she jerked away, pulling her sword free of his chest. His body fell to the ground heavily, and she jumped, stepping back to avoid the blood pooling around him, trickling outwards from his unmoving form.

"I dare say Boromir would have laughed himself silly to see how long that took," she murmured shakily, trying to will away the queasiness she was feeling at the sight of her fallen opponent. "I need to practice more often," she told herself. Stepping delicately over the dead man, she spotted a small entryway, so hidden away in the shadows of the tunnel that she had almost overlooked it. Hefting her sword once more, she carefully proceeded into the shadowy opening, ready for anyone who came at her.

Spotting a figure ahead of her, she ducked behind a twist in the tunnel, carefully peering around to see if he'd noticed her. His back was to her as he stared at something before him, and Ellemir bit her lip nervously, wondering if she would be able to catch him unawares. With a deep breath, she tightened her grip on her sword and dashed forward, approaching from behind and placing the tip of her sword against the small of his back, not penetrating, but making certain he understood the danger he was in.

"If you wish to live, leave now," she said forcefully.

Carefully, only moving his eyes, he glanced sideways, and for a moment, Ellemir thought he was prepared to retreat. She'd forgotten what Boromir had told her so many years ago. _Mercy may seem a righteous thing, but it rarely pays off in battle. Mercy, dear sister, may well get you killed._ He suddenly twisted, knocking her sword aside, even as he struck her, sending her crashing against the far wall of the tunnel. He backed away, giving himself a moment to prepare himself as he pulled his own sword free from its scabbard. As she tried to get her knees under her, she spotted her sword lying on the ground, and dread pooled in her stomach, making her heart race as she gazed up at her opponent in fear.

_Never let your opponent separate you from your sword. Fighting without a weapon will likely mean death for someone your size if you come up against a larger opponent. _With his sword raised, he charged her, and she scrambled on hands and knees to reach her fallen weapon, fearing she would be too late. Her hand closed on the hilt of her sword, and she brought the blade up just in time to meet his rush. She shut her eyes tightly and turned her face as his momentum propelled him forward, impaling him upon her sword, his weight forcing both of them to the ground.

She struggled to push him aside, finally succeeding in crawling out from under him. Climbing painfully to her feet, bruised and shaken from the fight, she paused to catch her breath, shoving her braids behind her shoulders and away from her face as she wiped the sweat from her face. _A misused and uncared for blade can fail you when you need it most. Take care of your sword as you would yourself, for it may be all that stands between you and certain death. _Crouching down, she manhandled the fallen man onto his back and retrieved her sword, taking a moment to wipe the blade clean on his tunic before she straightened once again, her eyes staring intently at the turn ahead of her. Uncertain of what she'd find around the bend, she tread lightly upon the ground, stopping when she reached the last outcropping of stone, the last barrier between her and whoever or whatever was on the other side of the curve. Carefully, her sword still gripped in her hand, she peered cautiously around the bend, only to cry out in surprise.

"Darufin!" she called out happily, jumping up and rushing forward, hurrying to the corner where the battered scout was chained, his face marred by cuts and his body stiff with pain.

"My lady, how did—" he began, but she cut him off as she knelt down beside him, dropping her sword at her side as she reached forward to pull his bound hands to her.

"Nevermind that now, Darufin. We mustn't tarry here—the king fights in the main cavern, and I need to return to him before he realizes I'm missing," she said quickly, gracing him with a small smile before she hastened back to the fallen guard, pulling the iron ring of keys from his belt and rushing back to Darufin's side.

She shoved the key into the shackles that bound Darufin, feeling an urgent need to make haste as the sounds of steel and men loomed ever closer. As the chains fell from his wrists, Darufin's eyes widened at the sight of something behind her, and she turned to see a man rushing at them, his face dark with hatred and his eyes alight with ill intent. Before Ellemir could react, the man grabbed her by the hair, his fist tightening as he jerked her forward, suddenly revealing what he held in his left hand—a dagger which he placed at her throat.

"It would appear, dear brother, that my luck has changed—it seems I have the king's woman after all," the man said with a malicious smile.

"You're his brother?" Ellemir asked incredulously. "You can't be," she murmured, swallowing as the dagger's edge slid closer to her throat.

"Oh, he didn't tell you?" Roane asked with a sneer. "No, of course not. He wouldn't want anyone to know his secret. Yes, Darufin is one of _us_. But he betrayed us. Still, he must have known how your king would react to the news. He's tried to hide it, but he will learn—you can't run from who you are."

"Do not do this, Roane," Darufin broke in, his voice deceptively calm as he stared at his brother. "You will never make it out of here alive if you harm her."

"Perhaps I don't need to harm her—I have merely to hold her hostage, and the son of Éomund will do whatever I tell him."

"No, brother," Darufin said evenly, his voice low and tinged with regret. "He will only kill you slower for the offense. Do you not see it? The stars let her escape you once and graced her with a watcher who will let no harm come to her. The stars have determined that this woman will live, and to defy them is folly. Release her, Roane."

Bitterness filled Roane's face as he stared back at his brother with hate-filled eyes.

"You speak to me of stars? What have the stars ever done for me, that I should honor their wishes?" Roane demanded.

"It is not for them to serve us, brother. It is for us to serve them."

"Then if it is written in the stars that I shall fall this day, then so be it, but I'll take the Son of Éomund's whore with me!" Roane screamed defiantly, jerking her head back and moving the dagger's edge closer as he stared back at his brother with angry eyes.

"NO!" Rushing forward, Darufin caught Roane's hand, his grip crushing as he strained to pull the dagger away from Ellemir's throat. Roane quickly released his hold on Ellemir's hair and shifted to a two-handed grip on the dagger's hilt to better compete with Darufin's efforts. Taking advantage of the moment, Ellemir ducked, dropping to the floor and crawling out from between the two men as they fought for control of the dagger.

Suddenly, Roane stumbled and fell, pulling both men to the ground. A hoarse cry was loosed and Darufin lay atop his brother, neither man moving. Ellemir found herself holding her breath, anxiously watching to see which would rise.

"Darufin?" she called tremulously, taking a hesitant step forward even as she questioned the wisdom of getting closer.

An endless moment passed by before Darufin moved to get off his brother, and Ellemir sighed with relief only to feel a rising dismay as she beheld the sight before her and the anguish written in Darufin's features.

"Darufin," she cried out, her eyes wide with fear and disbelief.

* * *

As another opponent fell, Éomer turned to reassure himself that Ellemir was safe, only to realize with a rising sense of alarm that she was nowhere in sight. 

"Ellemir!" he called, his hawk-like gaze darting around the large cavern, searching both the fallen and those still fighting for any sign of her. "Garulf, do you know where Ellemir is?" he asked, grabbing the older man's shoulder, his eyes the only part of him that reflected his worry.

"No, my lord. I thought she remained by your side. Forgive me, my attention strayed from her," he answered sorrowfully, but Éomer waved off the apology, knowing well enough that he could hardly blame Garulf for what he himself was guilty of.

"Riders of Rohan!" Éomer yelled, his voice echoing through the vast cavern. "Who among you has seen Lady Ellemir?"

"Éomer King," one man called out, finishing off an enemy before stepping forward, wiping sweat from his brow as he approached. "I saw her disappear into one of the tunnels, there," he said, nodding towards a small tunnel to the left.

"You have my thanks, Rider. Aeofrith, to me!" As the Rider stood, Aeofrith approached, expertly dodging enemies who continued to appear from the large side tunnels.

"My lord?"

"Ellemir is missing. Track her. We'll follow you," Éomer said brusquely, never one to mince words.

"Yes, my lord."

Aeofrith hurried to the tunnel, Éomer and a small cadre of Riders at his heels. It wasn't hard to track her, for she had not attempted to hide her tracks and her small, narrow footprints were quite distinctive among all the larger prints. Swords were held at the ready, each man prepared in case any remaining enemies were discovered.

They found the body of one man lying not far into the tunnel, and while Éomer was forced to grudgingly admit that perhaps she was capable of taking care of herself in a fight after all, he couldn't help but worry that she may not have been so lucky further down the path. _I can only hope that her ability to wield a sword is not as haphazard as her sense of direction_, he thought as he followed Aeofrith onward, the sounds of fighting following them as they moved deeper into the tunnel

"Aeofrith, mark my words. When we find her, I'm putting bells on her. I grow weary of searching for her."

"If you think it would help, my lord," Aeofrith replied with a grin.

"I see you have your doubts as well."

"Her spirit is not so easily tamed as one of your mares, I'm afraid, my king."

"Would that it was. Her brother ought to have warned me."

"Shouldn't you have warned him about your own sister?" Garulf broke in, a grin on his craggy features. Éomer answered with his own grin, mischief at war with humor in his gaze.

"Yes, well, perhaps I did fail to mention her temper. And her inability to obey commands. And her tendency to nag…"

"Certainly Rohan will not be the same without your sister, Éomer King, but I believe Ellemir will more than make up for absence." Éomer smiled, glancing down before he looked back up at both men with a sudden seriousness.

"For all her faults, Ellemir has come to mean much to me. If any harm has befallen her, someone will pay dearly." And the dark promise in his gaze told both men that Éomer meant every word that he said.

* * *

Only his eyes revealed the agony Darufin felt as he slowly pulled the dagger from his brother's body, pitching it aside with a choked sob. He gathered the younger man to him, cradling him in his arms as a hoarse cry was wrenched from Roane's mouth, his lips stained by the life's blood that was beginning to well from within. 

"Forgive me, brother. It was never supposed to come to this," Darufin murmured, and Ellemir's eyes filled as she watched the stoic warrior fight to hold back his anguish.

"Why…why did…you…turn against me?" Roane asked, choking as he struggled to speak past the blood rising in his throat.

"I never turned from you, brother" Darufin told him softly. "Our paths took different turns, but you have always been my brother, always. Would that you had chosen another path…I had hoped you would not follow our father's. I would not have had you share his fate—I would have spared you that pain, if I could have."

"Then…you…failed," Roane gasped. "As I…have failed. The stars…damned us all."

Roane's body jerked then, and Ellemir knew with a sinking feeling that the throes of death were now upon him. Darufin's face remained impassive, but his eyes could not hide his despair as tears rolled down his face.

She felt a presence behind her and knew instinctively that it was Éomer, even before his arms came up to surround her. She turned into his embrace, seeking comfort even as she turned her face to watch Darufin, his pain evident as he held his dying brother in his arms.

"What happened here?" Éomer murmured, his eyes taking in the scene before him quickly. Sensing that the moment was a private one, he motioned his men back, stepping back with Ellemir in his arms.

"It was his brother," she whispered. "All along, it was his brother who brought these troubles to Rohan. He was going to kill me, but Darufin stayed his hand," she said softly, realizing at that moment how much of the blame was hers. Because of her, Darufin had been forced to raise a hand against his own flesh and blood. "They struggled…" Her voice trailed off, but Éomer needed no further explanation, and he looked back at Darufin solemnly. Ellemir clung to Éomer as they watched the younger man in Darufin's arms slowly fall silent and still.

A sob escaped Darufin as he closed his brother's eyes, his fingers gripping Roane's tunic as though he could somehow will life back into the still body. Ellemir stepped away from Éomer and walked toward Darufin, kneeling beside him even as tears fell silently down her face. Reaching out, she wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his shoulder as she tried to lessen his pain, a pain that she knew could never truly be erased.

"I am sorry for your loss, Darufin," she said gently, his grief all too reminiscent of her own when Boromir had fallen.

"He wasn't always this way, my lady," he told her, his eyes never leaving his brother's face. "I remember him as he was before—a quiet boy, who never did anyone harm. But as we grew, so too did our father's hatred for Rohan. It drove him to madness." Ellemir looked on with sympathy in her eyes, her heart clenching at the thought of two young boys bearing the weight of their father's madness. _But for a twist of fate, this could have been the fate of my brothers, twisted and corrupted by our father._ "It was his downfall. As it was my brother's," Darufin said, his voice strangled with barely suppressed emotion. "I could not save either of them."

"Your father was never your responsibility. It was for him to watch over you, not for you to watch over him. And you did what you could to save your brother," she told him, pulling away enough to look him in the eye, wanting to be certain he understood.

"No. He was right, my lady. I turned away from him. I ran. I left him alone to suffer under our father's hand, left him alone with no choice but to become just like _him_, bitter and angry." He fell silent, and slowly his face lifted, his eyes meeting hers, and Ellemir felt a sense of helplessness fill her as the emotion slowly leaked away from him, his face becoming blank and emotionless. "I killed my own brother. I killed him long before we fought for that cursed dagger," he told her, his face cold and impassive, only his eyes betraying the depths of his guilt and anguish.

"No, Darufin, you mustn't think that way. You did all that you could to save him. But you cannot save a man from himself," she said vehemently. "You escaped the path your father had forged for you—you _chose_ to do so. Your brother could have made that choice as well, but he chose not to. The blame isn't yours to carry."

He shook his head, not responding as he stared down at his brother's still form, and Ellemir wasn't certain that there was anything she could say to convince him that the blame was not his own. _The weight of the dead is a heavy load to bear, Darufin, but it I cannot convince you otherwise, bear it you must until you are ready to release it._

"If there is blame to be had, Darufin, then it should be mine as well," she said softly. "Had I only stayed with Éomer until we could come for you together, with Riders, then Roane would never have been able to place that dagger at my throat. You fought with him to save me, so I must carry my share of the blame," she told him.

"I do not blame you, my lady. Your intention was to save me, and your purpose in this world is far greater than mine or Roane's. You are the king's woman, one day our queen, and you carry with you all of our hope for the future of Rohan. I had to save you," he murmured, conviction ringing in his voice.

"Though it is small comfort, your sacrifice this day is one that will never be forgotten, Darufin," she murmured, laying her hand on his, which rested on his brother's chest.

Garulf stepped silently up to stand beside Éomer as they watched Ellemir comfort Darufin. _She will make us a fine queen. Already she looks to the needs of our people, bringing one of us comfort when comfort is needed most_, Garulf thought before glancing back at Éomer, who was staring at the scene in deep thought.

"I understand now, Garulf," Éomer murmured softly.

"What, my lord?"

"This new enemy."

"You know them now?"

"Darufin and the other are the sons of Heruth."

"The Betrayer," Garulf said angrily, easily recalling the image of the man who had turned on Théoden so long ago. "But he was banished, my lord. Théoden King sent him away in shame before you reached the age of manhood. Nothing was heard of him after that."

"He was clever. He stayed in the shadows and sought followers in the darkness. Now he is gone, but his sons remain." _Théoden should have taken care to deal with this enemy many years ago. This is but a wound left to fester for far too long, and now we must pay the price for it. _

"The Betrayer had time to gather many to his cause, and they have nursed this grudge for some time, my lord, and this may not be their only refuge—'twill not be so easy to turn them from their course."

"I fear your words will prove true ere the sun sets, but my path is clear. I will not repeat my uncle's mistake and let traitors go free."

* * *

A/N: Well, there you have it, everyone. Hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Thanks to everyone who reviewed—you guys make it worth writing, and I appreciate the reviews! 

**mimishell**: Thanks for being my wonderful beta and for writing all those lovely suggestions and compliments! I'll try to put more Faramir in for you next time, although if I keep working at it, maybe I can bring you around so that you like Éomer just as much! LOL!

**Finduilas Galathil**: Love your pen name—it's fun to say. Anyways, I know my update probably didn't come as soon as you hoped, but at least it wasn't three months, right? Anyways, let me know what you thought!

**kiel**: You've probably forgotten at this point, but you asked about Ella's foresight—how it came about and how it's so strong…In answer to your questions, it's in the books somewhere that both Boromir, Faramir, and Denethor all have something akin to visions, although the subject matter varies. So I decided to run with that, making it a family trait. Ellemir just got lucky (or unlucky, depending on your point-of-view) and her gift was stronger than the others'. Anyways, I hope that answered your questions! Thanks for sending me a review! I really appreciate it!

**Soccer-Bitch**: Glad you like the story. Hope you enjoyed the new chapter, and thanks so much for reviewing!


	17. Chapter 17: Fates Fulfilled

A/N: Okay, so here it is, at last—the final chapter! While I read over this, I was too impatient to wait for my beta to read it—sorry, mimishell, I couldn't wait! My wonderful beta is working on her Master's thesis, so as you can imagine, she doesn't have a tremendous amount of time to read. So, I decided to just risk it and update without having her read through it first.

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

Recap: While Faramir recovers from his injuries in Minas Tirith, Ellemir sets out to return to Rohan, worried for Darufin, who remains a captive of his brother Roane. Having recruited Éomer and his men to help her locate Darufin, the Rohirrim and Ella encounter the followers of Heruth the Betrayer, Roane and Darufin's father, a man who had left Rohan in shame only to gather others to him who shared his hatred for Rohan. Though Heruth had died many years ago, his followers, led by Roane, have not forgotten their hatred of Rohan. During the ensuing skirmishes between Roane's forces and the Rohirrim, Ellemir strays from Éomer's side to locate Darufin. While Éomer comes to the realization that Ellemir is too important to him to let go of, Ellemir, meanwhile, discovers Roane. Upon finding him in a cavern, she starts to release him, only to be grabbed from behind and held at knifepoint by Roane. Darufin steps in just in time to prevent Roane from killing Ellemir, but in the ensuing struggle for the dagger, Roane is slain, resulting in something of a Pyrrhic victory, where the cost of victory is comes with a high price.

Chapter 17—Fates Fulfilled

"Faramir, please—listen to reason," Éowyn said, the pleading tone in her voice evident. "You need more time to recover before such a journey."

Aragorn looked up from the various maps, treaties, and varied documents that lay on the table before him to see Faramir striding carefully but resolutely toward him, Éowyn at his heels.

"Something troubles you, Faramir?" he asked, pushing aside his maps at the sight of the solemn look on the younger man's face.

"If it would not offend, I would ask that you excuse me from my duties as steward for a time," Faramir asked softly.

"For certain, you may have all the time that you wish, Faramir. But for what purpose would you leave us when the pain of your injuries still assails you?" Aragorn asked kindly, his clear blue-green eyes staring back at the steward expectantly.

"Rohan comes face to face with her enemies, and though I do not doubt Éomer's ability to lead his people victoriously against Rohan's foes, I nevertheless fear that I need to be at my sister's side. I grow uneasy."

"Is Éomer in need of aid?" Aragorn asked, rising from his chair with growing concern.

"My heart tells me that Rohan's fate is in good hands. But I…" Faramir paused, clearly not certain how to put his fear into words. "My lord, Ellemir is all that is left of my kin. While I know well enough that Éomer cares deeply for her and will keep her safe, I…I need to see with my own eyes that she is well."

"Aragorn, Faramir has only just begun to recover from his injuries," Éowyn broke in, hoping to appeal to Aragorn before Faramir made too strong a case in his favor. "Can you not reason with him, convince him to wait but a bit longer? He's being willful, and it will only succeed in causing him undue pain," she finished, turning to cast a scowl at Faramir before looking back at Aragorn resolutely.

"Éowyn, you should know well enough the senselessness of fighting what is in a man's nature to do—well you know that nothing comes of it but disappointment. To do otherwise is akin to trying to hold back the wind. If Faramir needs go to his sister, then nothing you or I would say can stop him."

"Aragorn," she began, unwilling to back down so easily, and Aragorn was hard-pressed not to smile. _It is the way of the people of Rohan to be headstrong, always ready for a fight or an argument. She is much like her brother. _He held up a hand to forestall further protest before settling back into his chair.

"While I will not refuse Faramir's request to leave, you may have as many of my people as you wish to accompany you both to Rohan. I would go myself, but Gondor needs a ruler, and it would be ill-advised for her to be without both king and steward. Go, Faramir, go with my blessing, and may your journey be a safe one."

"You have my gratitude, Your Majesty," Faramir said with a tired smile, glancing quickly at Éowyn before he slowly made his way back to the door. When he reached the doorway, he paused, looking back over his shoulder with a twinkle of mischief in his eye.

"Éowyn, are you coming?"

She fisted her hands on her hips as she scoffed at him, mock outrage warring with the smile that she was trying unsuccessfully to keep off her face. Unable to deny him, she sighed, allowing the smile to overcome her resolve to be annoyed and nodded.

"Yes, Faramir, I'm coming," she said with a sigh.

She followed him to the stables, Faramir unwilling to delay their departure for Rohan. They stood back to back as they saddled their horses, and Éowyn found herself trying yet again to come up with an argument that could sway him. Well aware of Éowyn behind him, Faramir carefully lifted the saddle onto the back of his mare, mindful of the wounds that had not yet fully healed despite Aragorn's ministrations.

"Are you certain you don't wish to wait a few more days so that you may regain more of your strength?" Éowyn asked, a hopeful expression on her face as she tried one last time to convince him to put off their departure from Minas Tirith for a little longer.

"No, the time is right—we must leave now."

"But you said yourself that you sensed no danger."

"Nevertheless, we mustn't delay." He paused, staring down at her with a soft smile. "You may stay here if you wish—I won't force you to come if you don't wish to," he said, a tinge of regret coloring his voice.

"No. I find myself reluctant to leave your side," she told him softly, leaning into him gently, smoothing her hand down the front of his tunic. He smiled, resting his chin on the top of her hair, his fingers lifting to smooth down the unruly strands of the golden tresses that had escaped the braid she'd hastily woven earlier.

"As much as I wish to tarry here with you now, we need to go," he said apologetically.

"Very well," Éowyn said with a sigh, watching without a word as Faramir pulled himself painfully into the saddle. Shaking her head, she mounted up, prepared to follow him regardless of how foolish she thought his decision. _It must be love_, she thought with a simple smile.

* * *

When Éomer had decided to return to the central cavern to see to the last remnants of the resistance, Ellemir had opted to remain behind with Darufin. Éomer had been reluctant to leave her, Ellemir knew, but after a quiet, heated argument, he'd finally agreed, so long as Aeofrith and a small unit of trusted men remained at her side. Knowing that she wasn't likely to fare better than that without considerable time and effort, Ellemir had accepted the compromise, unwilling to waste time arguing with the stubborn man of Rohan any longer. _Of course, I could have convinced him eventually…but by then, the point would likely be moot, as the battle would be all but over by then. _Thus, Ellemir found herself accompanied by Aeofrith, Anndras, Gedrin, Tyros, and Kyril, and several others whose names she couldn't quite recall.

No one spoke as they watched Darufin wordlessly heft his brother over his shoulder, resolutely refusing any help as he carried his burden away. With a sorrowful look at the men, she slowly left their side and solemnly followed Darufin. Without a word, they fell in behind her, and whether he knew they followed or not, Darufin nevertheless led the way deeper into the caves, navigating his way easily through the darkness.

As the shadows around them grew ever deeper, Ellemir felt herself beginning to tremble despite knowing that she wasn't alone. The caves were eerie, she thought, careful not to lose sight of Darufin ahead of her. She couldn't seem to rid herself of the feeling that something terrible and strange lurked in the darkness surrounding them. _It is as though these walls contain the remnants of hatred and bitterness that were so long a part of those who dwelled here. _She sped up, not wishing to fall behind and find herself in the dark. Though she'd fought her fear of the dark during her capture and escape, she was none too eager to face it again, and so, she hurried to keep up with Darufin. _Honestly, you're being completely foolish_, she told herself mockingly. _There are six armed men behind you_. But even that reassurance failed to comfort her, and she kept a steady eye on the man in front of her, quietly listening to make certain the others were still behind her.

It seemed like hours passed before they finally reached a dark cavern that was set in a deep recess that Ellemir knew she would never have found on her own. Darufin slowly knelt, laying his brother gently down on the ground before turning to light a torch hanging on the wall. As the light began to illuminate the room, Ellemir could see that the only furnishings in the room were a stone bier, already covered by a white cloth, and a stone table on which rested a large basin and an urn. Without looking at anyone, Darufin once more lifted Roane into his arms, inhaling deeply, as though he braced himself to once again bear his brother's weight, before he carried the still form over to the bier and placed him there atop the white cloth.

She didn't speak as she watched Darufin lay a hand on his brother's face, grief darkening his eyes before he slowly reached out and poured water from the urn into the basin. Ellemir stepped forward to offer her aid, but Darufin looked up, shaking his head before she came too close. Respecting his right to see to his brother on his own, she subsided, stepping back slightly to give him space. His soft murmurs were all she could hear as he spoke ritual words over Roane, his face masked by the shadows while he stripped the armor from Roane and cleaned away the blood. As she watched him care for his brother, she could only imagine the pain he was in. _Though my own brother died, I did not have to see to his burial. Someone else wiped the blood from his body, someone else placed his sword in his lifeless hands, and someone else cast him out to sea by way of the river. Someone else spared Faramir and I from the pain of laying our brother to rest. Would that I could do the same for Darufin. _But she knew that the other man would never let another see to what he perceived as his duty. And so she said nothing, though it pained her all the more.

As Darufin finished shrouding the body, pausing one last time to look upon his brother's face, he bowed his head, as though his strength was at last fading.

"My lady?" he asked softly.

"Yes?" she murmured.

"Though we are no longer considered Children of Rohan, it would have meant much to Roane to lie at rest with our ancestors in Rohan's hills. Know you if Éomer King would grant me permission to bury my brother in our homeland? "

"If he does not agree, I will convince him otherwise. He has a kind heart, though he hides it under a gruff exterior. I do not think he will deny you your request."

Darufin nodded, staring at her solemnly before anguish gripped him and he slowly sank to the floor, sobs wracking his sturdy frame. Ellemir hurried forward, suddenly feeling fiercely protective as she wrapped her arms around him and held him to her, allowing him to grieve. It was at once both strange and familiar as she recalled comforting Boromir after the loss of one of his closest friends. _At times, I think it is not women but men who feel so deeply. Too many times, it seems, I have found myself trying to shore up a man staggering under the weight of grief and despair._ Aeofrith stepped forward then, kneeling at their side and laying a hand on Darufin's shoulder as he looked at Ellemir helplessly.

Ellemir stared sadly back at Aeofrith as Darufin poured out his sorrow, knowing that sometimes, there was really nothing anyone could say or do to make some hurts go away.

* * *

Éomer stared down the last band of rebels, his sword held tightly in his fist. Hours after the initial incursion into the caves, all that had been stolen from Edoras had been recovered and this last pocket of resistance rounded up. But Éomer didn't doubt that these last few opponents, though mightily outnumbered, were stubborn enough to fight despite the odds stacked against them. _How easily Heruth turned others to his cause, swiftly gaining the allegiance of others who had cause of their own to resent Rohan. They should have chosen more wisely, for their allegiance will prove to be their downfall._

"Do you think they'll surrender, my lord?" Garulf asked softly, standing firmly at Éomer's shoulder as they gazed back at the unwavering force before them.

"Not without a fight," Éomer replied with certainty. "Many will die this day, I think. But if that is what they wish, then so be it. I will not refuse them."

"Decide—will you fight or will you kneel before your rightful king?" Garulf shouted, projecting his voice across the vast expanse of the cave they found themselves in.

"We do not kneel before the House of Éorl!" one of the Heruth's followers yelled out.

"YOU WILL SUBMIT!"

The pronouncement echoed through the cave, and everyone's eyes lifted in search of the man who had spoken. From a small passageway hidden by a crevice in the rock, Darufin emerged with Ellemir and the Rohirrim that had accompanied her at his heels. Darufin stepped forward, his eyes aloof and his face hard as he came to stand before Éomer, facing his people with a cold expression.

"Roane is dead. I am all that is left of the line of Heruth, and _I_ say you _will_ submit," he yelled, not reacting as Ellemir stepped around him to stand at Éomer's side, his focus unwavering from his people.

"Neither your father nor your brother would ever have asked this of us," one man said, stepping forward to speak for the others.

"And how did fate reward them for their pride?"

The question went unanswered, for all knew well enough what had become of Darufin's kin.

"Let us be clear on this. I do not _ask_ this of you—I _demand_ it, and you_will_ obey. You will swear fealty to Éomer King, or I will kill you myself," Darufin said, and there was no mistaking his tone. Slowly, the men began to fall to their knees, laying their swords at their feet as they knelt before Éomer. Darufin's stare remained fixed upon them, until every last man had submitted, and only then did he turn, dropping to his knees and lifting his gaze up to Éomer. Only then did Éomer catch a glimpse of the anguish in the other man's eyes.

"Forgive me, my lord," Darufin whispered, his gaze distant as he seemed to stare straight through Éomer, his eyes on some sight unseen.

"For what would you ask my forgiveness?" Éomer asked, genuinely confused.

"The troubles of this day may well have been avoided had I come to you with the truth, Éomer King. My actions put Rohan in great peril. And Lady Ellemir could well have been slain. I have betrayed you, my king."

"This day would have come no matter your decisions, Darufin. Heruth made certain of that. Think you that your people, poisoned by his hatred, would have remained unseen forever?"

"I should have told you what I knew!" Darufin said vehemently. "Perhaps then, this wouldn't have happened. Perhaps my brother would yet live."

"You believe yourself to blame for all that has transpired this day?"

"Yes, my lord."

"You take too much upon yourself," Éomer told him compassionately. "You are but one man. There is much blame to be had, but it is not yours alone to bear. Do not make it so."

"Your words hold truth, but in my heart, I know it to be otherwise. I deceived you, my lord, and that is unforgivable."

"Perhaps. But you have served me without question and sacrificed what you held most dear to you in order to protect what _I _hold most dear to me. There is nothing to forgive, Rider of Rohan. Darufin bowed his head, as though suddenly relieved of a great burden, his shoulders losing their rigid form as weariness swept over him. "Go now and rest, Darufin. Grieve for your loss and see to your needs, and when you are ready, your place among my eored will be waiting."

Darufin staggered slowly to his feet, nodding without meeting Éomer's eyes, and watching Darufin leave with his shoulders bowed with weariness, Éomer knew that the scout's sorrow and guilt were far from lifted. As he began to oversee oaths of fealty from those who still knelt before him, Éomer considered all that had just transpired.

Once, he knew, he would have thought nothing of releasing his wrath on those who opposed him, but with Ellemir now at his side, her gentle hand on his arm, it seemed…easier somehow, easier to control his temper, to let the hot anger that he struggled to keep at bay bleed away and let reason hold sway. _Gods, he was right_, Éomer thought suddenly, his mouth curving up into a smile as he thought about a lecture he'd received from his uncle so many years before…

_Éomer shook his head ruefully as he watched the newly married Cathair give in to his bride's demand for a dance. _

"_Why do you smirk, nephew?"_

_Éomer looked up to see Théoden gazing at him with a quizzical expression. _

"_We all know well enough that Cathair has no skill in the art of dancing, but he is so weakened by his woman that he will humiliate himself to please her."_

"_Tis no weakness for a man to wish to please his wife, Éomer."_

"_And how often did my aunt ride roughshod over you and you let her because of that sentiment?" Éomer asked with a grin. _

"_More often than I care to admit, but I was a better man for her interference."_

"_You mean a 'foolish' man," Éomer joked, elbowing his uncle in the side with a laugh._

"_You jest now, nephew, but your day will come," Théoden said with a smile._

"_I'll not be brought to heel by a woman."_

"_It is not something a man resents, Éomer. A good woman has a way of changing her husband for the better, in the way that a horse-master changes the unbroken stallion."_

"_You mean she tames him."_

"_No. She _gentles_ him."_

_Éomer stilled as his uncle's words settled over him. He looked back at Cathair, his eyes skeptical as he stared at the laughing young man who was currently attempting to dance with his wife, not appearing at all bothered by how ridiculous he looked. _

"_When you find the right one, nephew, you will understand. Until then, do not trouble yourself."_

"Éomer, are you unwell?"

Ellemir's concerned voice broke into Éomer's reverie, and he shook his head to clear his thoughts, blinking down at her, their surroundings forgotten.

"Merely lost in thought," he told her gruffly, mildly embarrassed at being caught off-guard.

"Only good thoughts I hope," she told him with a smile, her fingers toying with his hair gently as she leaned against him.

"He didn't reply at first, gazing down at her with an enigmatic expression on his face.

"What is it?" she asked, confused by the look of sudden wonder on his face as he stared down at her with an unblinking gaze.

"You've gentled me," he marveled, his voice unusually soft as he lifted his hand to cup her cheek.

"What is this that you speak of?" she asked with a confused smile, no more certain of what he was thinking about than before.

"Nothing," he said softly, pulling her forward abruptly, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her hair. "Nothing. Garulf," he said, suddenly addressing the other man who stood surreptitiously behind them.

"My lord?" Garulf asked, stepping forward.

"See to matters here. Make certain that all who lay down their arms are allowed to return to their homes," Éomer said, not taking his gaze off Ellemir. At his words, a strange look came into Ellemir's eyes, and Éomer frowned at the bittersweet expression that suddenly crossed her features. "Come, let us leave Garulf here to see to our withdrawal, and you can tell me what is troubling you." Leading her back toward the entrance to the caves, he felt her arm curl around his, her fingers gently squeezing his arm.

"My brother would have approved of you," she said softly. "You possess a quality that he thought very highly of."

"You speak of Boromir."

"Yes. I've never spoken of it before, but he told me something once that I had almost forgotten until this moment…"

"_Daydreaming again, little sister?"_

_Startled, Ellemir looked up, smiling sheepishly at her oldest brother who stood smirking in the doorway._

"_How did you know?"_

"_You have that look about you, the one where you have that foolish smile on your face," he teased. "Are you dreaming of your man of Rohan again?"_

"_Boromir, don't tease," she admonished. He laughed at her, but there was no malice in the laughter, and Ellemir found herself smiling back at him._

"_You know, we've never even met the man and Father despises him already for taking so much of your attention away from other suitors vying for your hand in marriage."_

"_It's just…I wonder what he's like, is all. Will he be everything I've imagined? I only see hints of him…"_

"_Ella, whether your man is real or not, I can tell you that there is but one thing you need truly seek in a man." _

"_And what might that be, brother?"_ _Well aware of her brother's sometime off-color sense of humor, Ellemir cringed, waiting for his response._

"_Compassion. If a man shows compassion to others, then he shows himself capable of love and mercy," Boromir said softly. Not expecting such a serious response, Ellemir stared at him with wide eyes. "Remember that, Ella—those are words of wisdom from your older and wiser brother," he said with a sudden grin._

"_And are you compassionate, brother of mine?" she asked playfully._

"_Of course. I just keep it well hidden."_

"_You have a kind heart, Boromir," she told him tenderly. "A woman would be lucky to have you, and I can only hope that my own husband is as you are," she told him, all jesting aside as he spoke to him honestly._

"_You flatter me, sister," he said with a laugh.  
_

"'_Tis not flattery if it's the truth and it's spoken with a sincere heart."_

_With another laugh, he swept her up in a hug that lifted her off her feet._

"_You grow much too serious for me, Ella. You've spent enough time daydreaming today, I think. Come, let us find Faramir and see what we can do to coax him from his gloominess."_

"_It pains me to see him so unhappy, Boromir. It seems as though he remains sullen despite our efforts to cheer him."_

"_Yes, well, he was in high spirits this morning, but Father requested his presence at breakfast. You can imagine, I'm certain, how well that went."_

_As she allowed him to pull her to her feet, he leaned close and murmured softly in her ear. _

"_Remember what I have said this day, little sister. Remember when you meet your man of Rohan," _

_And so I have, brother. I remember now,_ she thought., blinking suddenly up at Éomer with a bittersweet smile.

"Watching you today, Éomer, I suddenly remembered that day, and his words came back to me."

"Ellemir," Éomer said regretfully, "I do not want you to have a false impression of me. I have--"

"A beast of a temper, I know," she said, cutting him off before he could finish. But your temper is not the sum of your whole, Éomer, and after seeing the mercy you have shown Heruth's people, I have no doubts about your compassion."

"I am not always a compassionate man, Ellemir."

"Neither was my brother. But that's not the point. The point is you're _capable_ of it. Despite what you may think of yourself, you have shown your capacity for compassion and mercy…and love, I think," she finished softly.

"Do you doubt my love for you?" he asked, staring down at her intensely.

"No…but…well, you've never said for certain…"

"I am not a man of sentimental words, but though you may doubt many things about me, Ellemir, never doubt that," Éomer said, pulling her to a stop and kissing her fervently. Ellemir responded, wrapping her arms around his neck, savoring the touch of his lips on hers, his arms holding her tightly to him. When he finally ended the kiss, she settled against him, content to rest her head against his chest and listen to his heart beat within.

"Éomer?" she said after a long, peaceful silence, her own heart filled with a sense of warmth as she took pleasure from the feel of his arms wrapped around her.

"Hmm?"

"Might we go home now?"

"You wish to leave for Minas Tirith now?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow as he questioned her.

"I speak of Edoras, Éomer. We need to return there soon."

"Ah, why is that?"

"My brother and Éowyn will have arrived by the time we reach Meduseld."

"You 'saw' this?"

"Yes."

"Is something wrong?" he asked, concerned by the news of his sister and Faramir returning so soon to Rohan.

"No, I don't think so."

"Then why do they come?"

"I haven't the faintest idea," she said absentmindedly. She dropped his arm, suddenly veering away, traipsing further into the grass.

"What are you doing?" Éomer asked, perplexed by her abrupt change in direction.

"These flowers are pretty," she said, kneeling down to stare at the small budding flowers scattered throughout the tallgrass. "I want to pick a few of them."

"Ellemir, those aren't flowers, they're weeds," he told her, his nose wrinkling with aversion.

"Well, _I_ like them," she said stubbornly. Shaking his head, he waited semi-patiently for her to satisfy her weed-picking whim, amused at least by the look of pleasure on her face. Finally, just when Éomer thought he could wait no longer, she hurried back to him, aiming a winning smile at him.

"Don't know what you would want with a bundle of weeds," he grumbled, allowing her to resume her hold on his arm.

"They're pretty," she insisted as they resumed their walk back to the camp. "So…when can we leave?"

"What?"

"For Edoras—when can we leave?"

"Will dawn be soon enough for you?"

"Yes, I think so."

They fell into a companionable silence, and Éomer thought he'd rarely been as happy as he was at that moment. Surrounded by nothing but a sea of grass and a sky that was just beginning to alight with stars, he was content. And judging from the peaceful expression on her face, Ellemir was, too.

* * *

They reached Edoras shortly before the moon rose above the horizon, and as Éomer lifted Ellemir from the saddle, he felt a deep weariness settle in his bones as he looked tiredly up at the sky. 

"The deep of night will be upon us soon," he said with a sigh.

"As will Faramir and Éowyn," Ellemir told him with a tired smile.

"Do you know how long we have before their arrival?"

"It is not often that I can be certain about the timing of matters such as these, but I imagine it will not be before dawn."

"We'll have time to rest, then, before they ride in."

"My lord? My lady?"

Darufin's voice interrupted their quiet conversation, and as one, they turned to see the scout dropping to his knees before them, bowed by pain, grief, and exhaustion.

"Darufin, what is it?" Ellemir asked, hurrying forward to kneel at his side worriedly.

"I will bury my brother in the hills before the sun rises. My task done, I would ask for your leave then to depart," Darufin said quietly, his eyes fixed upon the ground, his jaw clenched tightly as he strove to retain his stoicism.

"Depart? What mean you?" Ellemir asked with a growing sense of dismay.

"My lady, I would have served you and Éomer King for all the days left in me. But…my brother's death has left a fissure in my spirit, one that I fear will always remain with me."

"But you're home now," Ellemir said hurriedly, knowing even as she said it that she had little hope of convincing him to stay. She had grown fond of him during her stay with the Rohirrim, considering him to be one of the few friends she had in either Rohan or Gondor, and it saddened her to think of him leaving.

"I only returned to Rohan to bury Roane in our homeland," he told her, sighing wearily as he glanced down before turning the full force of his gaze upon her. "It_ pains_ me to stay, my lady. I cannot remain here."

"Oh, Darufin," she said with a mournful sigh, her own heart aching at the pain she heard in his voice.

"My king," he began, turning to face Éomer once more. "Will you release me from your service?" Darufin asked quietly.

"You have served me well. Go with my consent, Darufin, and may you find the peace that you seek."

With a slight nod, Darufin climbed slowly to his feet and turned away, quickly disappearing into the shadows that had for so long been his sanctuary, and Ellemir knew, deep down, that many years would pass before they saw him again. _But the day will come that he will return to us. Until that day, I can only hope he will find a measure of peace. _By morning, he was gone, his departure from Edoras as silent as his arrival so many years before.

* * *

When Faramir and Éowyn arrived shortly after dawn, Éomer could only marvel at how accurate Ellemir's second-sight had once again proven to be. Éomer turned away after greeting his sister and Faramir, preparing to leave in search of mead rather than socialize when Faramir put a restraining hand on his shoulder. 

"Éomer, may I have a word with you?" Faramir asked, his soft-spoken request going unheard by the two women who were discussing the affairs of Rohan and Gondor respectively. Éomer nodded, gesturing for Faramir to precede him into the dark hall of Meduseld.

"The stables are never a good place to converse," he told Faramir with a smirk. "By nightfall, all of Edoras would know the matter of which we speak."

"I thank you for your discretion, then. I would speak privately to you about a matter very important to me, one that I hope you will be amenable to," Faramir told him solemnly.

"I'm listening," Éomer said slowly, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"As Éowyn's closest…well, only, kin, it is to you that I present my request for your sister's hand in marriage."

Éomer couldn't really say he was surprised by the request, only that Faramir had broached the subject of marriage first. He frowned, not especially fond of being caught off guard.

"I…," Faramir continued, "I care for her deeply, and I would do all that is within my power to bring her happiness," he told Éomer, who had yet to say anything.

"Faramir," Éomer began, "I do not doubt your ability to make her happy, so I will say this in answer to your proposal…" He paused, enjoying watching Faramir's restlessness as he waited for Éomer to respond. After a painfully long moment for Faramir, Éomer sighed, taking pity on the other man, and spoke. "I'll give you mine, if you give me yours," he said finally, a sudden grin appearing on his face.

As Éomer's words registered, Faramir laughed, feeling his heart lighten and the nervous tension leave him at Éomer's lighthearted response.

"I confess that this was not how I envisioned this conversation—you're much more receptive than I imagined you would be."

"Only because I trust you to care for Éowyn…and because you have something that I want. So…are we in agreement?"

"Yes," Faramir said, not even truly having to consider the question of Éomer marrying his sister. _Of course, thought he doesn't know it, I've known Ellemir would marry him since the day she first laid eyes upon him—she foretold it long ago._

"Good. I'd like the matter to be settled as soon as possible—I'm not a patient man, Faramir."

"Éomer, son of Éomund!" Ellemir's shrill yell of outrage echoed around the vast hall, and Éomer cringed, even as he turned to see Ellemir striding resolutely toward him with an amused Éowyn following at a more leisurely pace behind her.

"Why do you scream at me, woman?" Éomer asked, his brow creased in a frown.

"That was the most unromantic proposal I've ever heard!"

"Have you heard so many then?" he asked sardonically, quirking his brow as he watched her plant her fists on her hips and angle her head up to narrow a heated glare at him.

"As a matter of fact, I have, many of them quite lovely. And to think I turned them all down for _you_ and that ghastly proposal!" she countered.

"There was nothing wrong with my proposal," Éomer told her with a scowl.

"Oh really?"

"If there was something ill-begotten about my proposal, your brother would hardly have accepted it, so perhaps it is to _him_ that you should direct your complaints."

"Do not draw me into this fray, Éomer," Faramir inserted, raising his hands in mock surrender as he backed away. "I have my own woman to quarrel with," he said firmly, hoping even as he said it that Éowyn would not prove to be as angry as Ellemir.

As though she heard his thought, Éowyn eased up next to Faramir, entwining her arm with his, gently pulling him away, urging him forward toward the peace and quiet of the outdoors.

"So is this why you_really_ wanted to return so quickly?" she asked him with a smile.

"Yes, I confess it is so. Though I do worry for Ella when she's out of my sight for too long—that was no lie. Little Sister finds trouble far too easily for my comfort. I'm afraid your brother has no idea what he's agreed to take on by marrying her."

"He's not so easy to live with himself."

"Do you imagine they would say the same of us?" Faramir asked, his eyes sparkling with mirth as he mused over the question.

"I do not doubt that my dear brother would say the same of me. However, I don't imagine Ellemir would say the same of you," Éowyn said with a laugh. She looked over her shoulder at the two still arguing and shook her head. "Do you imagine they'll survive their marriage?"

"A better question might be 'will Rohan survive their marriage?'" Faramir said, genuine amusement lighting his face.

"Perhaps you were too hasty in agreeing to let my brother wed her," she replied, her eyes dancing with mirth. Faramir chuckled at that before they turned back to Éomer and Ellemir, neither of them surprised to see them still arguing.

"Why do you always have to be right?" Éomer was saying, his brow deeply furrowed as he stared down at Ellemir, the two of them glaring at each other.

"Well, I can't let you get your way _all the time_, can I? You're far too stubborn as it is. Besides, it just so happens that I _am_ right this time."

"You're an exasperating woman."

"And you're an infuriating man. You're lucky that our marriage was foretold, because if it wasn't, I'd—" Ellemir said, but Éomer cut her off with a sudden look of confusion placing his index finger over her lips to silence her.

"Wait, foretold? What mean you?" he asked, staring down at her with perplexed eyes.

"Have I not mentioned the matter before? I thought surely that I had spoken of it…"

"No, you haven't. Explain."

"It's nothing, really. It's only that, well, I've known of our union since I was a child," she said, a soft smile coming to her lips, her earlier irritation forgotten as she thought of the little girl she had been, the one who would so often chase after Boromir and Faramir to tell them of her yellow-haired man.

"Do you jest?"

"No. I knew of your coming long before I ever truly laid eyes upon you, Éomer. Fate willed it."

"It would seem, then, that synchronicity has played its part as well," he finished, thinking back on all that had brought them to where they were now. Each occurrence, each incident, all had led them to this moment.

With a smile, Éomer reached for her hand, the warmth of affection filling him as she placed her hand in his. _Though the journey has been long and the way has been difficult, at last, all is as it should be—fate and synchronicity have made it so. _

--The End--

* * *

A/N: Well, that's it. I hope you all enjoyed it. For those of you still reading, thanks for sticking with me, despite the long waits between chapters. I think I've responded to everyone--if I forgot someone, I'm so sorry!

**Finduilas Galathil**: So glad that you loved the last chapter. Hope this one was as well loved as the last. And I totally agree with you—Éomer is fine! LOL!

**Randomisation**: Thanks for reviewing for me! Appreciate it!

**wondereye**: Yeah, I'm hoping that I managed to connect any dots left over from the last chapter. I hope this chapter lived up to your expectations! Thanks for reviewing!

**Rachaelle**: Thanks for such a wonderful review! I enjoyed writing the flashback scenes as much, if not more than, the present day scenes. I feel like this story started to become more difficult for me as the time between chapters increased and my free-time and my motivation began to diminish. It's kind of a relief for the end to finally be here. Anyways, hope I managed to keep Ella from turning into a mary-sue in this chapter. Thanks for letting me know what you thought about it!

**Soccer-Bitch**: Glad you liked the last chapter—thanks for reviewing!


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